Second Chances
by KikiTwinTai
Summary: At times, everyone worries they are second best. Sometimes all it takes to believe in yourself is another person to convince you that everyone deserves a second chance. Hetalia Gakuen AU. - Rated M for descriptions of depression and anxiety, as well as adult language, themes and suggestions.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lovino kicked the wall angrily, muttering under his breath. He had lost count of how many times he had cut classes this week. Today, however, was Friday, which meant this counted less as skipping class and more of starting the weekend early.

Sighing, he kicked the wall again for good measure and slid down, resting with his back against the white bricks. He looked at his watch, the sound of the school bells confirming the time showing on the small dial. 3.00pm.

 _Good. Five minutes and I'm outta here._

The bells signalled the last lesson of the day, the time anyone was least likely to come looking for him. _Not that anyone would bother by now anyway._ He sighed again. It was unlikely that any teaching staff would come looking for him here, being as he was at the very back of the school sports building, half hidden by trees, but there was always the risk that someone would see him. Every day was the same routine. Go to school, show up for a class once in a blue moon, get bored, skip, leave. Wash, rinse and repeat. He looked down at his watch again.

3:04. _Good enough, I suppose_.

With that, he rose, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way out of the school grounds, using the back entrance to lessen the chance that anyone would see him. As always, he couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt and something almost like betrayal at the fact that no one ever did bother to chase after him.

 _See, I really don't matter to anyone. I don't know why I even bother showing up in the first place._

He made his way along the empty streets, stopping for a moment to kick an empty can for a few paces, pretending it was a football. He scored a goal by hitting it between two lampposts, cheered for himself, then lowered his arm, feeling slightly foolish.

When he got to the house he lived in with his brother and grandfather, he gasped. There, where there should have been an empty driveway, was his grandfather's car, as well as another, a sleek red model that definitely didn't belong to anyone he knew.

 _Shit. Grandfather must be home early from work, but who the hell does the other car belong to? Shit, shit, shit, this is bad._

He walked up to the house tentatively, deciding to use the front door. He would normally go in the back when coming home from playing truant, but since the back door led to the kitchen this was probably wasn't a good idea. Instead, he inserted his key in the front door and turned the handle slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible in the hope that his grandfather wouldn't notice his entrance. Once in the porch, he slipped his shoes and jacket off and tiptoed down the hallway, then peered through the gap of the hinges, looking into the kitchen.

His grandfather was there all right, as well as a strange man sitting at the table. From Lovino's vantage point behind the door, all he could see was a mop of light brown hair and the back of a red and white striped shirt. At the sight of the stranger, Lovino couldn't help a sharp gasp from escaping. _No_. _Not him. Why is he here, now?_ A sudden thought occurred to him. _No. please don't say he's here to take me away again. I won't leave. I won't do it._ His panic rising, he strained to hear the conversation.

"-could really help him, Antonio."

Lovino shivered. Hearing that name, a flood of memories overwhelmed him. Too late, he heard his grandfather calling his name.

"Lovino? I know you're there. Why don't you come say hello instead of skulking behind the door?"

Lovino jumped, gasping again. He took a deep breath and walked out into the kitchen, stubbornly refusing to even look at the stranger, keeping his gaze locked on his grandfather instead. Roma looked down at his grandson, seeing the mixture of nerves and anger on his face, then relaxed his face.

"I assume you heard all that?" he asked.

Lovino frowned. _How come he isn't mad at me for skipping school again?_ Warily, he replied "Si, grandfather. Something about _helping_ me." He couldn't quite keep a bitter note from his voice. He dared a quick glance towards the man, who was still sitting at the table.

Roma sighed. "Yes. While I would normally give you a good lecture for skipping school once again, for once your truancy is actually for the best. You will have guessed who our guest is already, I hope?"

Lovino looked away, still refusing to meet the man's gaze, but nodded imperceptibly. Roma's mouth twisted in a grimace. Taking hold of Lovino's shoulders, he turned his grandson to face the man, who had now stood up to face Lovino.

"Here he is, Antonio. He looks a little different than when you last saw him, no?"

Hesitantly. Lovino raised his gaze and stared at the man in front of him. He was just as he remembered.

Light brown, tousled hair in a smooth, tanned face. Brilliant green eyes that had always reminded Lovino of sunlight on grass. A gentle, kind smile, the same he had always worn despite any amount of Lovino's often terrific temper. He held his arms out, the same smile showing now. His voice was the same as Lovino remembered, that told him stories when he couldn't sleep, when yet another nightmare came and he awoke crying for his mother, for Roma, for Feli, for anyone. The same voice that had sung to him softly and lulled him to sleep, had woken him in the morning on the rare days that Lovino hadn't woken him first. The voice that he had heard laughing, talking, singing, and on very rare times, crying. All of the memories he had tried to forget came rushing back as Antonio looked at him and spoke, his voice the same Spanish accent that he used to both love and hate.

"Little Lovi. How I have missed you."

He kept his arms out, waiting. After Lovino made no move to step towards him, Roma gave him a push, making him stumble forwards and into Antonio's arms.

His embrace was just as he remembered, a little different now due to their almost matched height, but still the same warm, strong arms that had held him as a child. Again a rush of memories flooded through him. The many summers spent back home in Italy. Antonio picking him up and swinging him round, the two of them picking tomatoes and olives on his farm, sitting together at the kitchen table after a long day. Nights spent cuddled up to him, his arms often the only way to keep the nightmares at bay, however vehemently he would try to deny it.

Lovino shuddered. His arms crept up to tighten around Antonio of their own accord. The two stood like that for a moment, until Roma cleared his throat, looking slightly apologetic when Lovino jumped back in surprise, his face flushed with a rush of emotions.

"As lovely as it is to see the two of you like this, I did not invite you here just to reminisce, Antonio."

Antonio's face turned solemn, and he let go of Lovino, returning to sit at the table. Wordlessly, he indicated that Lovino should sit opposite him. He did so warily, unsure why the atmosphere had changed so suddenly. Roma suddenly excused himself, taking a pack of beer out of the fridge and walking into the next room, presumably to watch TV. As he went out of the room, he said to Lovino

"You'd do well to listen hard to what Antonio has to say, Lovino. This is your last chance."

Lovino's frown deepened. _Last chance? What the hell does he mean? Last chance for what?_

 _[end of version 2]_

Puzzled, he stared at his grandfather's retreating back, then turned his head back to Antonio slowly.

The Spaniard had an uncharacteristically serious expression, mixed with a hint of what could only be called pity. They sat in silence for a few moments, until Antonio finally cleared his throat and spoke, gently.

"Lovino. I shall get straight to the point. Your grandfather tells me that you are having what might be called some _trouble_ at school."

Lovino held back a scoff, the emotion he held felt over Antonio's sudden return abruptly replaced with his usual anger. _Trouble? Yeah, you could call it that._ Frowning, he heard Antonio continue.

"To put it briefly, you regularly skip classes, sometimes not showing up at all. When you do go to class you are often in trouble for not paying attention. Your performance is poor, you often pick or get into fights with other students, and, to pardon the pun, you were kicked off the football team for aggression, both in your own team and towards your opponents. Does that sound about right?"

Lovino glared at Antonio, but didn't bother to deny it. _How the hell does he know everything about me? Damn you, grandfather, telling him everything._

Instead of replying, he glared down at his hands, clenched in his lap.

"Lovino". Antonio said softly. "Look at me."

He did, reluctantly. When his eyes met the Spaniards, he felt a spark of something he couldn't place. He looked away again stubbornly, refusing to make further eye contact. Antonio sighed.

"Very well. If you won't explain what's wrong, at least read this. It should explain everything well enough." He took a letter out of his front pocket and placed it on the table between them. Lovino waited a few moments before reaching out and taking it slowly, making a show of seeming bored about it. He slid it out of the envelope, his breath hitching when he saw the school's crest with the familiar motto across the header. He scanned the page furiously, his anger growing with every word. When he reached the last line, he threw the paper down on the table and stood up, throwing his chair back. It fell to the floor, crashing, but he ignored it, too furious to care.

"Is this some kind of joke? I won't do it. I don't need any _help_ , not least from a bastard like you" he spat. A horrified thought ran through his mind, and he scanned the page again.

"This is dated a week ago. Why have you waited until now to give me this?"

Antonio looked surprisingly guilty. His voice was hesistant at first, but firm as he replied

"We - Roma and I - have already discussed this with your headmaster. If you agree to this, we will all have a meeting tomorrow morning to sort everything out. If you don't go…" his voice trailed off.

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Realisation flitted across Lovino's face, quickly replaced with seething anger.

"How the hell could you go behind my back like this? You bastard!" He stared at Antonio, then his grandfather, who had come into the room when he heard Lovino shouting. He stared at the two men for a moment, hot tears pricking his eyes. Roma was about to reprimand him for his language, but was cut off by the boy suddenly turning and running upstairs. They heard the sound of a door slamming loudly, then silence.

Antonio watched as Lovino ran up to his room, then sighed, tucking the letter back into the envelope and putting it back in his pocket. He got up and picked Lovino's chair up, setting it back to rights at the table. He walked over to the lounge, then took a seat in one of the armchairs. Roma walked in moment later with a can of beer in his hand, which he held out to Antonio, who accepted it gratefully. The two sat in silence for a moment, then Roma spoke.

"I take it my grandson was less than pleased with the letter?"

Antonio sighed. "Si. I don't really blame him. He feels very betrayed by us 'going behind his back', as he put it. I confess I didn't really expect otherwise. It wasn't very nice of us to do that to him."

His expression darkened. "But it couldn't be helped. This is for his own good, after all. Lovi was always stubborn, and from what I've just seen he has only got worse. I suspect it is going to take a lot of work to change him."

Roma looked at him darkly. "But you will try? For me as well as for him?"

The Spaniard nodded. "Yes. For you, for Feliciano, and for Lovi. Don't worry. I will do everything I can, old friend. I just hope it will be enough. If I can't change him, I am not sure anyone will be able to."

Roma nodded, satisfied. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see."

With that, the two sank into silence again and turned their attention to the TV, their minds both focussed on the boy lying upstairs and the contents of the letter that had provoked so fierce a reaction from him.

Once alone in his bedroom, Lovino threw himself down on the bed and lay there, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. He felt a tear trickling down his cheek, and raised a hand to wipe it away angrily, leaving his arm flung over his face. However, one tear turned to another, and soon he found himself sobbing noiselessly. He turned over and muffled his face into the pillow, not wanting the two men downstairs to hear his reaction. The only thought running through his head was _why? Why does anyone start to care about me now?_

 _And why, of all people, did it have to be_ him?


	2. Chapter 2

Feliciano smiled to himself, mumbling happily. He skipped along the corridors, stopping once he reached the entrance and scanned the gates for signs of his brother. He sighed softly when there was no sign of Lovi, but carried on anyway, making his way over to the sports building. Once inside, he walked over to the lockers and placed his bag on one of the benches, then opened it and took out his football strip. Changing quickly, he ran out onto the field, beaming when he saw the other team members. They, in turn, smiled and waved at him, calling out greetings and gentle taunts.

"Hey, Feli, good to see you. Late again? looking for your brother? That guys a lost cause. Anyway, its time to warm up."

The mixture of voices surrounded him, and he basked in the centre of attention, hi-fiving some of the boys, waving to others. His smile fell slightly when he heard one of them mention his brother, but he ignored it, knowing by now that it was useless to try and change their mind about Lovino.

The boy's chatter was interrupted by the sound of a megaphone.

"Alright, that's enough. Practise is starting, everyone. 5 laps to start."

Feliciano, along with everyone else, looked over to where the voice was coming from. A tall, muscular blond stood with one hand on his hip, the other loosely holding the megaphone. A whistle hug around his neck, signifying his position as the group's coach.

His name was Ludwig Beilschmidt. He had been the top player of the boys' senior team, and now, in his first year at college, had returned to be the coach to the boys mixed-year team. He was something of a legend in the school, having been both sports captain and head boy, and, unsurprisingly, hero and idol to a good number of both girls and boys throughout the school. Feliciano was no exception. He felt his face flushing as he caught the older boy's eyes, and started running, easily keeping pace with the others. His mind ran along with his feet as he jogged around the playing field.

 _Oh my gosh, did he see me looking at him? No, he couldn't have, he was too far away. Ahh, get it together, Feli! He's never going to notice a junior like you!"_

He continued running, completing each warm up exercise as Ludwig called them out. Once they had completed the set, Ludwig called everyone over, making them sit in front of him as he explained the plan for the day.

"is everyone here? Good. Now, as you all know, we have the interschool tournaments coming up. This will be preparation for nationals, so if everything goes as planned we could potentially be representing our school at the highest level."

His piercing blue eyes scanned the boys in front of him, seeing the mixture of eager and worried expressions. His voice relaxed as he continued.

"I know it seems scary now, but we have an excellent plan. As long as we stick to the training schedule I've come up with, there should be no reason why we can't go as far as there is. I believe in you. _All_ of you".

Was it just Feliciano's imagination, or did he looked directly at him when he said that?

"So, with that in mind, let's play some games, ja?"

"Yeah!" A cheer went up through the group, and they sorted themselves into groups, eager to begin playing and improve their skills. Once everyone was settled, Ludwig spoke again.

"So, today we shall be working on passing. If we want to win, we need to make sure that each of us works in tune with everyone else at every moment. To do that, you all need to be able to pass faultlessly to each other, to kick the ball and know that it will reach the other player without you having to look. I don't expect you to be perfect, but by the end of the day I want you all to be able to have the basic gist of it, alright?"

Nods again. "Alright, go!" He blew the whistle, signalling the start of the games. The group was divided into four teams, each playing on half of the two fields. Feliciano took his usual position as striker, ready to receive the ball and score.

He lost himself in the game, relishing the feel of the wind in his hair as he ran, the thump of his feet as he hit the ground, and the slight weight of the ball as he kicked it square into the goal. He let out a yell as he scored the first goal, looking around at his teammates, seeing the same joy mirrored on their faces. They didn't waste any time though, and turned their attention back to the game, remembering to implement Ludwig's advice and focus on the presence of each other at all times.

As he predicted, this did not always work, with players occasionally missing a pass, fumbling a strike or, in one painful instance, losing their footing entirely and sending half the team tumbling to the ground with them. Ludwig sighed and placed a hand over his face when he saw the jumble of limbs on the ground, then made his way over, giving each of the boys a helping hand up. They all smiled ruefully when they saw him, rubbing the injured spots.

Ludwig, to his credit, did not seem annoyed, and simply chastised them gently, "This is exactly what I meant about knowing where everyone is at any moment. Łukaseiwicz, please try to keep your attention on the field instead of the birds, please?"

The boy in question waved a hand jauntily, seeming unconcerned at the laughter surrounding him. "Yeah. I'm, like, sorry."

Ludwig frowned, but didn't chastise the boy further. "Well, so long as you're more careful next time. Now, back to play."

"Yes, coach!" the boys chorused, and resumed their positions. The session ended when Ludwig blew the familiar two-tone whistle, waving everyone over to the front of the building. Feliciano stood with the rest to hear his appraisal of the practise.

"Well, good job, everyone. You're beginning to get the hang of it. Just remember to focus. Łukaseiwicz, the birds are not here to watch you play, so try to keep your attention on the pitch, not the sky. Jones, Williams, the pitch is not the place for fighting. I don't care if you two are the headmaster's sons, if you wish to tackle each other like that, do so _off_ the pitch."

Everyone turned to a near-identical pair of blond boys with glasses. Laughing, the shorter-haired one turned to the other and threw an arm around his shoulders.

"Aw, man, he knows I don't mean it, don't you bro?"

The shorter teen sighed resignedly at his brother and shrugged his arm off. "yeah, I'm pretty sure you do, actually" he said quietly, but smiled anyway.

Ludwig cleared this throat, making everyone turn their attention back to him.

"Good game, everyone. Well, that's it for today. Now, have a good weekend and remember, morning practice starts at nine AM sharp tomorrow. No excuses for being late. Off you go! Dismissed!"

Feliciano smiled and joined in with the general chatter, then followed as everyone made their way back into the building to shower and change. He was happy. This is what he wanted, a life full of laughter and friendship. He listened vaguely to the talk as he showered and changed, putting his clothes and towel in the bag he kept in his locker. As everyone began to file out, however, he felt his smile falter. His team had won 4-3, everything was going well, he had the championships and nationals to look forward to, so why did he feel a sudden sense of guilt?

Lovino. No matter how good Feliciano was at school, no matter how popular and liked he was, it wasn't enough. Not until Lovi got to share that too. The trouble was, he didn't seem to want it. The more Feli tried to share his happiness with him, to use his popularity to make sure Lovi got included with everything as well, the more his brother seemed to isolate himself from school, until it seemed like there would never be a way to bridge the gap between them.

Picking up his bag, Feliciano turned to leave, his thoughts still on his brother. He wasn't concentrating on his surroundings, however, and bumped into someone on the way out. He lost his footing and almost stumbled, a hand reaching out to catch him. He grabbed their arm, reflexively, and began apologising.

"oh! I'm sorry, I wasn't looking, I'm sor-"

His words trailed off as he looked up, bright green eyes meeting piercing blue. He gasped.

 _Oh no! Now I've done it! Calm down, Feliciano!_

He felt his face flush and heart pick up as he stared at Ludwig. The blond stared at the boy for a long moment, his face passive, then looked away, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as if in thought. Feliciano was sure it was nothing but his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a flush on Ludwig's normally pale face.

"um, coach? I'm ok now. You can let go of my arm."

"hmm? Oh, yes, of course." Ludwig released him, stepping back and allowing Feliciano to pass him. The younger boy scurried past, eager to get outside and away from his idol. He had barely gone a few paces before he heard a voice call him back.

"Vargas, isn't it?"

Feliciano whipped his head round, terrified that he had done something wrong. His face paled, blush turning to white in an instant.

"y-yes?" he stuttered.

Ludwig stood in the doorway, his face still pensive. His voice was thoughtful as he asked,

"Do I know you from somewhere? Perhaps a playdate when we were young, or something?"

Feliciano gulped nervously. _Is that all? I haven't done anything wrong?_ He thought for a moment. Ludwig did remind him of someone, with his blond hair and serious expression, but Feliciano would never admit to it. The thought of that person stirred painful memories, memories he had tried so hard to forget. Instead, he deliberately made his voice sound cheerfully confused.

"I don't think so, coach." _Oh, god, was that the right thing to say?_

Ludwig nodded, evidently satisfied with the boy's answer. He looked at him, his expression relaxing into a faint smile.

"Well, no matter then. You played well today, Vargas. Keep this up and you could be a formidable asset to the team in the championships."

Feliciano felt the blush returning to his face. Stammering, he replied "u-um, thank you, coach. That means a lot. Um, well, I should get going. My brother is probably already home from school, so my grandfather is probably wondering where I am. I'll be at practise tomorrow, I promise. Well, goodbye!"

He ran off down the corridor and out of the entrance, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He knew his face must be bright red, and he placed his hands on his cheeks, trying to calm his racing pulse.

 _It was just a coincidence, you idiot! What makes you think he would ever take any notice of a silly little boy like you! One little word of praise and you turn into a gushing, stammering mess. Pull yourself together and grow up!_

He tried to listen to the voice of reason in his head, telling himself that he was reading far too much into a casual, likely throwaway remark. His mind fervently tried to ignore the other, smaller voice that was remembering the heat of Ludwig's body and the feeling of being caught by that strong, muscular arm. He ran out of the school and towards his home, profoundly grateful that it was long past the end of the day and so no one was there to see his blushing face.

Back in the locker room, Ludwig stood with the hand that had caught Feliciano held in front of him, a faintly puzzled expression on his face.

 _Why does that boy seem so familiar?_ _He said he was sure we have never met, but something about him…_

A memory tugged in the back of his mind, the image of a small child in green dungarees and a white top, with shining auburn hair catching the sunlight in golden strands. He shook his head determinedly.

 _I'm sure I am just confusing him with someone else. This is not the time to be caught up in fantasies. We have a tournament to win_.

He slapped his face lightly and turned to go out of the room, taking a quick glance around to check that no one had left anything behind, then locked it, before walking back to the main office to drop the keys off and sign out at the reception. As he made his way through the familiar corridors, he couldn't help but see the pictures and trophies of his last year at school still lining the cases along the hall.

He gave a greeting to the teachers he saw who still remembered him, stopping once or twice to discuss his work at college and thank them for their continued teaching. He said a brief greeting to the receptionist, who smiled at him and wished him well on his course, as well as the games, then walked across the car park and got into his car. He started the engine and drove off, his thoughts already planning the upcoming matches. As he drove, he couldn't help his mind returning again and again to tomorrow, and the prospect of seeing the promising, curiously familiar young striker again.


	3. Chapter 3

Feliciano threw the door open, calling out a greeting as he went in.

"Grandpa, Lovi, I'm home from practise!"

He didn't hear an answer. Confused, he ran down the hallway, then stopped, slid his shoes off and ran back to put them in the hall, then hurried into the lounge.

"Grandpa, I'm home! I'm sorry I was a little late back from practise, I got distracted and then I bumped into Ludwig, I mean coach Beilschmidt, and he said I was a good player, and then he said I could be a 'formidable asset to the team', can you believe it? Then he asked me if we had ever met before, which I thought was a little strange, because I'm sure I would remember if I had ever met him before, because he's really tall and strong and-"

His thoughts tailed off when he noticed Antonio sitting in the chair in front of him, a vaguely amused expression on his face.

"…Grandpa, who is this?" he asked politely.

Antonio smiled. Standing, he came up next to Roma and said in a light tone,

"It is good to see Feliciano hasn't changed since he was little, hey?"

Feliciano tilted his head to one side in confusion. _Do I know this man?_ The accent sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where he had heard it before. He looked from Roma to the newcomer in interest.

Roma smiled tiredly and motioned Feliciano to stand in front of him.

"This is Antonio, Feliciano. You might not remember him, you didn't know him as well as Lovino, but you spend some time together when you were little. He had a farm near ours in Italy, growing tomatoes and olives. Do you remember?"

Feliciano drew his eyebrows together in thought. His face lit up with realisation as he remembered.

"Si! I remember you! You would pick us up and spin us round. We helped you pick the tomatoes." His face fell slightly, looking almost worried. "Lovi wasn't very nice to you. I'm sorry."

Feliciano looked away, his face falling even further. "He's still not very nice" he muttered, almost inaudibly. Roma and Antonio shared a knowing look over his head. _Shall we tell him?_ Roma nodded imperceptibly.

"Actually, Feli, that is why I am here." Antonio said, seriously. Feliciano's head shot up.

"Why you're here? What do you mean? Because Lovi isn't very nice? What does that mean?" He turned to face Roma, his expression torn between panic and fear. "Has he done something? Please say he hasn't done something. He's already on his last chance at school."

Roma's face was stern. He looked down at his grandson's face, then addressed Antonio. "Show him the letter, Toni."

Antonio complied, taking the envelope out of his pocket and handing it to Feliciano, who took it gingerly. He opened it up and read it, tears forming in his eyes as he scanned the lines. When he finished, he looked back up at the two men, a tear falling down his cheek.

"I-is this true?"

Antonio nodded. "Si. Unless Lovino agrees to this, he will face expulsion. We have already agreed to a meeting to discuss it tomorrow morning, but he is refusing to go."

Feliciano's face turned pale with Antonio's unspoken implication, then hopeful. "So, all he has to do is agree to it, yes? Then everything will be ok, right?" His voice wavered, torn between hope and panic.

Antonio shot a look at Roma, then turned his gaze back to Feliciano. "Y-yes. But Lovi does not seem like he will ever agree to it." He gazed searchingly into Feliciano's eyes, as if hinting. Feliciano understood, and wiped the tears from his face. His voice was the angriest Roma had heard in a long time as he said quietly

"So all I have to do is convince him to go to the meeting tomorrow morning, yes?"

Antonio shot a look at Roma, then nodded slowly. "Well, he would have to agree to the terms of the letter as well, but yes, attending the meeting would be a start."

Feliciano nodded determinedly. His hand unconsciously clenched around the letter, almost crushing it. He walked over to the stairs, then paused on the bottom step.

"I _will_ make Lovi agree to this, Grandpa. Don't worry." With that, he made his way upstairs, his steps slow and determined.

Roma and Antonio stood in the lounge, faces mirrored in surprise. Faintly, Antonio said in a tone of wonder,

"I have never heard Feliciano sound so serious. Do you think he can do it?"

Roma nodded slowly, his face determined. "Yes. He may not show it, but when Feliciano gets angry there is no way Lovino will be able to say no to him." he turned back to the TV and sat down.

"They will likely argue for a while. I suggest we leave them to it. There is no point interrupting them until they are done. Feli will convince him, I am sure of it."

Antonio sat down again reluctantly. Sighing, all he replied with was "I sure hope you are right, old friend."

The two sat in silence again, waiting for the two boys to reach a conclusion, each praying that Feliciano would be able to make his brother see that he really did have no other choice but to accept the contents of the letter, however dreadful it may seem to him.

Feliciano made his way up the stairs, each step slow and determined. He hesitated when he reached the top step. _What is that sound? Is Lovi…no. It can't be. Lovi never cries. Just hwo bad does he think this could be?_

He frowned. Why was his brother getting so upset about this? The school was trying to help, for goodness sake! He should be grateful they were offering him a final chance at all instead of outright expulsion. The least he could do was accept it, damn him.

He stormed down the corridor and knocked on Lovino's door. He tried to make his voice sound calm and cheerful as he said,

"Lovi? It's me. Let me in."

He rattled the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked. He heard a muffled refusal. Undeterred, he kept rattling the handle. "Lovi, please. Let me in. Grandpa and Antonio are still downstairs, they aren't gonna come up, I promise. It's just us. Let me in, please. Just let me talk to you."

He let his hand fall from the handle, waiting. After what seemed like an eternity, he eventually heard a faint shuffling and the door opened a tiny fraction, letting him see his brothers tired, tearstained face. Lovino's voice was rough as he spoke.

"…you promise that bastard will stay downstairs?"

Feliciano sighed in relief. "Si. I promise. It's just you and me, I swear."

Mollified, Lovino opened the door another fraction, just enough space for Feliciano to slip through. Once his brother was in the room, he reached around him and locked the door again.

The two stood in silence for a few moments, looking at each other's faces, then Lovino suddenly threw his arms around his brother and started crying again. Feliciano jerked back in surprise, wholly taken aback at his brother's action, then tightened his arms around him, letting him cry. After a few minutes, he steered them both to the bed and sat Lovino down, arms still locked around him. He waited patiently for Lovino to collect himself, knowing he would speak when he was ready.

Eventually, Lovino's cries died down to sobs, then stopped completely. He drew back from Feliciano, dragging an arm across his face. Feliciano wordlessly reached over to the bedside table and took the tissue box, holding it out to Lovino. He took a tissue and blew his nose, then sat looking down at his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet, made hoarse by crying.

"What am I gonna do, Feli?"

Feliciano said nothing, but placed his arm around his brother again and squeezed his shoulder tightly. After a while, he replied, his voice set.

"I think you know what you have to do, Lovi."

Lovino broke away from his brother, his expression horrified. "What, you think I should do it? Agree to this stupid idea?" He snatched the letter out of Feliciano's hand. "I won't do it. I won't go. They think they know what is best for me, do they? They don't know anything! They're idiots, all of them!" He crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it across the room making it hit against the wall and fall to the floor.

Feliciano sat on the bed, his expression unimpressed. Slightly sarcastically, he replied "well, what other choice do you have? Refuse and get expelled? And then what? Drop out? Try and get a job with the few qualifications you've managed to get, God knows how, since you've no chance of getting into another school after this one? Go on then, go ahead, refuse. Get expelled. See where that gets you." His eyes narrowed. "See where that gets you, _on your own_. I _won't_ help you this time, brother."

Lovino jerked back in surprise at his brother's vitriolic words. Feliciano never spoke like this, not to anyone. His face resumed its normal anger.

"So that's what you think, huh? That I'm a loser, that I can't do anything, can't achieve anything? Well, I'll show you, you and grandpa and everyone else. I don't need you!" He made as if to storm out of the room. Feliciano blocked him with lightning speed, throwing a hand out to stop him from reaching the lock.

"You know, you can be such an idiot sometimes, Lovi." His voice was back to being cheerful, his expression soft.

Lovino glared at him, unwilling to try and use force to reach past Feliciano, however angry was. Instead, he spat at him "and you're not? I see how you look at your stupid coach, with your stupid puppy gaze. Good luck with that, brother. I bet you're just his type."

Feliciano's face dropped, hurt, then set into quiet anger. "My feelings for Ludwig are none of your concern, Lovi. And this is about your future. _Mine_ is already set, in case you didn't know." His expression softened, turning questioning. Shaking his head slightly, he asked simply

"What is it about this whole thing that you are so against?"

He took his hand away from the door, then folded his arms, waiting for a reply.

Lovino glared again, unwilling to answer. He stared at the door, then threw his hands in the air, spinning on his heel and facing Feliciano.

"Urgh. Nothing, alright! I just, I.." his voice trailed off as he tried to collect his thoughts. As much as he tried to hide it, he felt tears clog his throat again as he said,

"I just..don't get it." He started pacing around the room, his hands gesturing wildly. "Why are they giving me another chance? I don't deserve it. I've gone way past where they should have given up on me. There's no point trying to change me. It's too late. It won't work. If I could change on my own, I would. But nothing can change me. I've tried. No one will ever believe in me. I'm not you." His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked away.

Feliciano let his brother speak, horror growing as he heard him say his true feelings. He knew that Lovino had felt the same depression and anxiety that he himself did, but to that extent? And what did he mean, _I'm not you_? Confused, he watched as Lovino wiped his face of tears yet again, drawing breath in great heaving gulps, trying so hard not to cry again.

He got up from the bed slowly and took the few steps forward to stand in front of his brother. Placing a hand on either side of his face, he leaned in until their foreheads were touching. Amazingly, Lovino did not draw away, letting his hands fall to his sides as they stood there.

"Don't be silly, Lovi. Everyone deserves a second chance. All you have to do is go downstairs and say to Antonio that you accept. This is a good thing, see? It's not even a stranger. Its someone who knows you, he won't judge you. He wants to help you, can't you see? Please, Lovi. Do this. For you if not for me. Please. I don't want my _fratello_ to waste his life. Please, Lovi. Please." He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, trying to convey his feelings by touch and voice instead.

Lovino twisted his mouth in a grimace. _Is my little brother really that upset for me?_ He didn't want to believe Feliciano, but at the same time he clung to his words, desperately hoping that it was the truth. For so long he had compared himself to his brother, unable to find his own worth, trapped in a downward spiral of self-hatred and apathy. But perhaps Feliciano was right. Maybe having someone like Antonio, who knew him, knew his personality and what he had done through, was exactly what he needed. He drew back from Feliciano, his expression determined. He gulped, suddenly nervous.

Without warning, Feliciano drew his hand back, his fist flying at Lovino to connect soundly with his cheek. Furious, Lovino jumped back, cradling his face with both hands.

"What the hell was that for, you bastard!"

Feliciano smirked. "That was for being such an idiot, Lovi." He smiled his brother. "You should never compare yourself with me, silly. We may be twins, but we're completely different people. No one should expect us to be the same. And if they do, they are the ones in the wrong, not us. Ok?"

Lovino glared at his brother. "Easy for you to say, bastard" he muttered. Feliciano looked down in apology, then took a step back towards the door.

"I'll go get something for that, ok? Don't go anywhere." Saying that, he unlocked the door and walked out, then closed it behind him. Lovino heard him go into the bathroom and start running the water, presumably getting a cold cloth for him.

He walked over and sat back down on the bed. As an afterthought, he got up again and went over to where the letter lay scrunched up. Unfolding it, he walked back over to the bed and sat down again, reading through the letter carefully.

 _Dear Mr Vargas,_

 _It has come to the school's attention that your grandson's behaviour has become increasingly erratic, and we now feel that there is no other option than to offer an ultimatum._

 _The school is currently due to accept a new counsellor and psychiatrist starting in a months time. It is of our opinion that your grandson would benefit greatly from a term of sessions with a professional such as this, and so we would like to offer this as a chance for Lovino to improve his behaviour. The conditions would be thus:_

 _The student will accept a suspension from school until the term of counselling can begin._

 _Once the suspension is over, the student must attend thrice-weekly sessions with the counsellor, with each session set at a minimum of one hour._

 _The student must conform to all school rules, including attending morning registration, and will not be allowed off school grounds unless with the express written permission of at least two teachers, or unless accompanied by a member of teaching staff. If accompanied, absences must be reported and justified, and limited to not more than twice weekly._

 _The student must attend all lessons as stated on their personal timetable, unless a leave of absence is agreed upon according to the above condition._

 _At the end of the term, a written evaluation must be presented to the school board with evaluations from all teachers, as well as a separate evaluation from the counsellor as to the student's improvement._

 _Lastly, the student must show a genuine desire to change and improve their behaviour, grades and overall school presence. If at the end of the term it is determined that there has not been a significant change in the student, as determined by the written evaluation, there will be no further chances granted and we will have no choice but to initiate a permanent expulsion for the student._

 _If the student agrees to these conditions, and on sufficient completion thereof, all plans for his expulsion will be withdrawn and he will be allowed to continue education until his graduation._

 _To arrange a suitable time for a meeting to discuss these terms, please contact the school._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Arthur Kirkland, headmaster (B.A)_

Lovino read the last words, then sighed deeply. _Well, I don't even have to contact them, do I? Apparently that has been decided for me!_

Placing the letter down next to him on the bed, he fisted his hands against his eyes.

 _Why am I even refusing this? Damn you, Lovi, just accept it!_

He let himself fall back until he was lying on the bed, his hands still against his eyes. He heard the door open and Feli re-enter the room, evidently carrying something. Lovino lifted a hand slightly to see his brother approaching him with a small bowl held between his hands.

"Lovi? Sit up. I've got something for your cheek." He sounded apologetic, presumably feeling guilty for having hit him so hard.

Lovino sat up slowly, groaning, and allowed Feli to press the ice-water soaked cloth to his swollen cheek. He hissed and jerked back when the fabric of the cloth scraped against the tender skin. Feli stopped and jerked his hand back.

"I'm sorry, _fratello_! Please don't hate me." He hesitated for a moment. "You did deserve it though."

Lovino glared at him, then, surprisingly, gave a low laugh.

"yeah, I guess I did."

Feli smiled and sighed relievedly, then tried to approach Lovino again with the cloth. He leaned away from his brother's touch for a moment, then allowed Feliciano to press the cloth against his face. He pressed his hand against his cheek to hold it in place, wincing occasionally as the cloth scraped him again. Feliciano retreated to sit on his heels, looking up at Lovino curiously.

Lovino glared at his brother again, irritated. "What now, bastard?"

Feliciano giggled. "Nothing. I'm just surprised that you gave in so easily, Lovi. If this was all it took to get you to agree, maybe Antonio should have come here earlier, hmm?"

Lovino stared at his brother, aghast. His face blushed deep red. His mouth worked silently for a few moments, then he eventually sputtered out

"T-that has nothing to do with it!"

He turned away from his brother, staring at the wall. He heard Feliciano burst out laughing.

"Si, and I don't like pasta!" he kept giggling. Lovino looked around for something to throw. Seeing his brother's temper rising, Feliciano hopped up and went over to the door again, escaping his brother's wrath. He popped his head around the door, his face suddenly serious again.

"Whether Antonio has anything to do with this, I don't care. I'm just glad you agreed to this, _mio fratello._ " With that, he shut the door and went downstairs, presumably to give the news to Roma and Antonio, who would be delighted.

Lovino sighed. _This will be sickening_. Groaning, he lay back on the bed again, gathering his strength to go downstairs and face the two men.

He couldn't hear anything from downstairs, but he assumed that Feliciano would have told them by now. Just as he thought that, he heard a heavy tread on the stairs, indicating his grandfather coming up to see him. Sure enough, he heard a solid knock on the door and Roma' gruff voice, softened in concern.

"Lovino? Can I come in?"

Lovino sat up and straightened his clothes, reading himself. Satisfied that he looked reasonably presentable and most of the traces of his crying was gone, he replied.

"Si, nonno."

If Roma was surprised to hear his grandson call him in his native tongue instead of his usual more formal speech, he didn't show it. Instead, he opened the door slowly to find Lovino sitting up straight on his bed, his face looking almost nervous.

He shut the door behind him and walked over to Lovino, then, strangely, kneeled in front of him and took his hands in his own. He raised them to his mouth and kissed them, making Lovino stare at him in complete confusion.

"Grandfather?" he asked, his voice confused.

Roma sat back on his heels and looked into his grandson's face. Lovino was shocked to see a hint of tears in his grandfather's eyes. _Was he really that worried about me?_ He looked away, matching tears springing to his eyes, uncomfortable with the display of emotion.

Roma sensed Lovino's discomfort and sat back, then rose. Leaning down, he placed his hands on Lovino's arms and drew him up into a deep embrace. Lovino resisted at first, then relaxed into his grandfather's warm hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Lovi. You have done the right thing."

Lovino couldn't keep the tears away this time, and blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. His grandfather's words were a trigger, however, and he couldn't help from sobbing again. Roma said nothing, simply letting him cry himself out into his shirt, one hand on the back of his head, the other rubbing calming circles on his back.

Eventually, Lovino's sobs quietened down, and he tried to say something, the words lost in Roma's shirt. Roma pulled away, gently, letting his grandson speak.

Between quiet gasps as he tried to get his breath back, Lovino whispered "I'm sorry, nonno. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating it, almost hyperventilating. Roma clutched him again, shushing him.

"I am not going to insult you by saying it is alright, Lovino. This will take time, and a lot of work. But I will say this, however." He drew back again. Lovino looked at him in confusion, scared.

Roma raised his hand and wiped away the last of Lovino's tears. His face was infinitely gentle as he said

"I believe in you, Lovi. You will get through this, as you have got through everything else. And I am sorry for keeping this from you. Believe me, we had no other choice. Do you forgive me?"

Lovino looked up at his Roma, his expression inscrutable. Eventually, he leaned back into the older man. "Si. I suppose I forgive you. But not that tomato bastard." HIs voice was muffled against the fabric of Roma's sweater, but he still heard the words.

Roma chuckled. "Well, you don't have to forgive him now. You can do that later." With that, he kissed Lovino's forehead tenderly, then took a step back.

"Now, how about we go downstairs to the others and cook some pasta, hmm? I'm sure you must be getting hungry by now."

As if on cue, Lovino's stomach rumbled, making him flush red again. Roma chuckled. Lovino opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, choosing instead to allow his grandfather to take his hand and lead him out of the room. Roma smiled to himself, more glad than he could say that Lovino was back to his normal self.

The two went downstairs, finding Feliciano and Antonio deep in conversation about something. Seeing Roma in the doorway, Lovino in tow, their conversation petered out, whatever Antonio was about to say forgotten. Relief spread over his face as he saw Lovino's blushing, shy expression.

Roma spoke first.

"So, it is all sorted. Now, what would anyone like for dinner?"

Feliciano immediately jumped up and shouted "Pasta!" making Roma chuckle.

"Yes, that's all you ever say. Care to give me a hand at making it, then?" Feli grinned and ran over to his grandfather, stopping to smile at his brother and wink at Antonio, then followed Roma into the kitchen.

Lovino waited until his brother and grandfather were safely in the other room, then allowed himself to look at Antonio. The Spaniard was staring at him with a strange expression, a mixture of relief and something else he couldn't place. Whatever it was, it made a strange spark flare through his body and he looked away, suddenly shy.

Antonio knew exactly what Lovino meant, however, and didn't make a move to step towards him. instead, he said quietly, making sure that only Lovino could hear him

"I'm glad you made this decision, Lovino. Your mother would be proud of you."

At those words, Lovino's head shot up and he stared at the man in front of him, his face shocked.

"H-how did you know my mother, you bastard?" he eventually asked, the words said with a kind of fearful hope.

Antonio's expression was full of sadness and remembrance as he said softly "we were friends, that's all." His mouth curved in his usual gentle smile. "She would be very happy to see you now. You have done the right thing, Lovi, believe me. We can get through this, together. You'll see. I believe in you."

Lovino felt his heart jump again with that same unidentifiable emotion. Although Antonio had said nothing more than what his grandfather had, coming from him the words seemed to mean so much more. He would have rather died than admit this, however, so he stayed silent, his gaze wandering around the room, unable to look at Antonio.

The Spaniard didn't seem to expect an answer, however, and walked over to Lovino. He ruffled his hair, making the boy glare at him and try to flatten it again, one curl stubbornly springing free to bounce against the top of his head.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop it, you bastard. And I still don't forgive you for playing such a cheap trick and deciding this without me." He looked away, his face flushing deeper red. Mumbling, he asked "Y-you will be there though, right?"

Antonio laughed softly. "Of course I will be there. I have to be, I am your new counsellor, yes?"

Lovino didn't reply. Antonio smiled, glad to see the boy's usual character resurface. He started walking to the kitchen. "Now, Let's see how your brother and Roma are doing with that pasta, hey?"

Muttering under his breath, Lovino consented and followed him back to the kitchen, determined to do nothing more than enjoy a simple, home-cooked family dinner. True to his expectations, they spent the evening laughing and reminiscing. Antonio had Roma and Feliciano in stitches with tales of his escapades, usually involving his two friends Francis and Gilbert, who Lovino decided sounded like definite trouble. Even he could not keep from laughing at some of Antonio's more ridiculous accounts. Late that night, after both he and Feliciano could not keep from yawning, he collapsed into bed, incredibly tired from the mixture of emotions and crying, but more determined than he had felt in a long time.

 _I can do this. Somehow, I'll get through this._ Thinking that, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Lovino woke and stared at the ceiling. With his mind still clouded by the remnants of sleep, there were a few precious, carefree moments of not remembering before everything that he agreed to the night before came crashing down again. He took a deep breath. For a long minute he considered simply staying in bed and ignoring the world and everything in it. His plans were interrupted by the sound of his brother hammering on the door.

"Lovi? It's breakfast time. Hurry or the food will get cold."

Lovino sighed and rolled out of bed. Remembering the meeting, he threw his uniform on, despite it being Saturday, tried and failed to flatten his hair down, and eventually decided that he was as presentable as he was ever going to get, and trudged downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, he went over to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, pouring some into a glass. Roma was busy cooking something on the stove. From the heavenly smell drifting upwards, Lovino guess it was tomatoes and bacon, enough for all three of them and then some.

"Why have we got so much food so early in the morning? It's not like it's going out of fashion or anything?" he asked, sliding into a seat at the table. Feliciano sat opposite him, seemingly not paying attention, staring out of the window with a sleepy expression.

Roma didn't bother turning round, but waved the spatula at his grandson in a vaguely threatening manner.

"Feliciano has morning practice and needs the energy, and so do you. You don't eat enough anyway. Besides, you'll need it if you're gonna face your headmaster. That man even scares me sometimes, and that's saying something."

Lovino remembered what he had to do and gulped. He knew from too much experience that the headmaster, Mr Kirkland, was not to be messed with, with a temper to match even Lovino himself. He couldn't help shuddering slightly in trepidation. He scowled at his grandfather's other words.

Roma noticed his grandson's silence and came to stand in front of him. He slid plates laden with plump tomatoes and rashers of thick, crispy bacon in front of them both.

"Here, eat up, both of you. Feli, try to wake up. You have to be at practice in half an hour. We'll pick you up after, so just wait for us inside, alright? I don't know how long the meeting will go on for, but it shouldn't be too long."

Feliciano looked up at his grandfather sleepily. "Si, nonno." He seemed to wake up as he ate, finishing hurriedly and running upstairs, then dashing down again a few minutes later, and grabbed his bag from its place on his chair.

"Bye nonno! bye Lovi! Good luck with the headmaster! Don't argue with him, ok?" He hugged them both, Lovino struggling as usual, kissed Roma on the cheek, then ran out the door, waving as he went. Roma waved back absently, then shut the door behind him and turned to his elder grandson with a serious expression. Lovino, who had sat picking at his food and looking down at his plate as his brother left, now looked up, his face finally showing the worry and fear he felt.

Roma went over to him and sat opposite him. He steepled his hands on the table, looking at Lovino solemnly. They sat in silence for a moment, then Roma finally spoke.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat this for, Lovi. You will have to do this absolutely perfectly or you won't get another chance. So tell me, how are you gonna do this?"

Lovino hesitated before answering, still pushing his food around his plate. Eventually, he answered quietly "I go into the school. I say I have a meeting with Mr Kirkland. I give him the letter. I, uh, apologise, and say that I agree to the terms of the letter. Then, uh, I..." his voice trailed off.

Roma furrowed his brows. "And?"

Lovino looked at him wide eyed. "And what? What have I missed?"

"You apologise, all well and good. And then what?"

Understanding dawned. "I, uh, I tell him I'm very grateful for the opportunity" he said, his voice sounding slightly torn.

Roma smiled. "Si. That's better."

Lovino did not looked convinced. Seeing his grandson's expression, he said

"Don't worry, Lovi. I'll be there with you, remember?"

Lovino blinked in surprise. Roma chuckled. "Did you forget that? I have to be there, remember? The letter was addressed to me, not you."

His eyes widened, then he blushed, looking away. His voice was almost inaudible as he asked

" _He'll_ be there too, right? He said he would be."

Rome couldn't keep a smirk from forming. He replied breezily "Si, I expect so. He has to introduce himself, after all."

Lovino frowned, his face reddening further. "But I already know the bastard" he muttered.

"Si, but Mr Kirkland doesn't know that."

Lovino's head shot up. "What?!"

"I, ah, haven't let the school know the full extent of your history. I expect it is in your records, but I'm not completely certain" he said, scratching his face with one hand in embarrassment.

Lovino looked furious. "How the hell could they not know that the bastard practically adopted me?!" he yelled.

Roma raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with his grandson's outburst. He replied calmly "For one, he hardly adopted you, he simply looked after you until I could get custody of you two after Maria passed, god rest her soul' -the two crossed themselves - 'and secondly, while it may be on your health record, it is nothing to do with your academic transcripts, so there is a chance it isn't part of your school records. If you had ever seen a school psychiatrist before, it would be another matter, but as this is first, and, I hope, last, time, there should be no problem." He sat back and waited for Lovino to reply.

At first, Lovino looked angry, then, as his grandfather's words sank in, his anger turned to confusion, worry and settled on a mixture of trepidation and something close to fear.

"But what if they find out? What am I gonna do then? They wouldn't let me see him anymore, right?"

If Roma noticed the way his grandson's voice wavered as he spoke, he didn't show it. Instead, he replied "I suppose there is that chance. However, first and foremost Toni will be your counsellor. Whatever he was to you in the past is gone. If there was likely to have been any problem, I expect the school would not have suggested this in the first place. As such, they must have come to the conclusion that it will be alright. Now, go and get ready. We'll take the car; these old legs won't walk all that way."

Lovino still didn't look entirely convinced, but accepted his grandfather's words nonetheless. He nodded reluctantly and got up from the table, taking his plate over to the sink and throwing the remaining food in the bin.

He got ready slowly, brushing his teeth and trying yet again to make his hair look presentable. He yelped as he accidentally caught his curl with his hairbrush. He didn't know why, but that one stray lock felt sensitive somehow, as though it had feeling in it. He was fairly certain Feliciano was the same, since he remembered the two of them both crying one time when they were little after having entangled their hair together. He shook his head, dismissing the memory, and focussed on trying to get his tie straight. After a while he gave up and went and found Roma, who merely chuckled and fixed it.

"Seventeen years old and still can't tie a tie properly. What are we gonna do with you?" he said, laughing. He ruffled Lovino's hair. Lovino shook his hand off angrily.

"Grandfather! I just got my hair to lie flat! You're gonna mess it up again! I need to look right for this damn meeting!"

Rome laughed again. "Really? From what I've seen your headmaster could do with a comb himself, huh? And his clothes, urgh! So old-fashioned for a man his age, no?"

Lovino tried and failed to keep from snorting, a laugh escaping him despite himself. Oma smiled delightedly, pleased that his tactic to lessen Lovino's nerves had worked.

"Well, we better get going. Take your bag just in case, you might need to show them work. What you have of it, anyway."

Lovino nodded and ran back upstairs to get his bag. He grabbed the book his class were studying in English and stuffed it in, then ran back downstairs again. Roma was standing with the car keys in his hand, waiting. He was dressed unusually neatly as well, in the suit he used to wear to church when they were little, a silk tie round his neck and shiny cufflinks in the shape of little crosses glinting on his sleeves.

"All done?"

Lovino nodded.

"Right. Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

Feliciano couldn't keep a grin off his face as he ran to school, filled with both relief and excitement. Everything was looking up now. His doubts and fear from the day before had disappeared on hearing that Lovino would get a chance to redeem himself. He was profoundly happy that Lovino had agreed to the school's proposal at all, knowing how unbelievably stubborn his brother generally was, it was nothing short of a miracle that he had accepted it as gracefully as he had. On top of that, his team was likely to go to the championships, maybe even the nationals, and who knows where they could go after that! The giddyness built up in him and he laughed aloud, practically skipping along the street.

His mind sobered for a minute as he thought of the competitions coming up, feeling a flash of panic. Ludwig clearly had high hopes for him. What if he let them down? Granted, he was only one member of the team, but everyone relied on each other, that's what Ludwig had said yesterday. What if he wasn't playing his best? What if the other teams were more focussed, stronger, faster, better?

He felt a familiar panic threatening to close his throat and tried to quell it, remembering what Roma had told him. Just breathe, Feli. Nothing is going to go wrong. Just focus on your breathing and everything will be fine. He took a few deep breaths, filling his lungs with air. It did help, somehow, calming his heartbeat. He shook his head, determined not to let himself doubt. Everything will be fine. It will be. It has to be.

He ran into the school, the gates luckily open early for the clubs that needed access. He checked his watch. 8.55. Oh, I'm cutting it fine. Better go and get ready!

Gentle jibes filled the room as he opened the locker room door, the few students who had also arrived in the nick of time ribbing each other as they changed hurriedly. Feliciano greeted them, then they all ran out onto the field, where Ludwig had already initiated practice warm-up. He frowned when he saw the stragglers arrive, just as the clock chimed nine.

"You're late." He frowned, his usual stern expression deepening. Feliciano felt his heart jump into his throat.

"Sorry Coach. Won't happen again. Really sorry Coach." A chorus of apologies replied.

"Hmph. Just make sure to be on time next time. We are preparing for competitions. Now is not the time to be lazy."

"Yes Coach." The boys chorused again. Ludwig looked satisfied, motioning for them all to join the warm-up drills. They all complied, rushing to start the exercises along with the rest of the team.

"Vargas." Feliciano stopped as he heard his name being called. He turned back hesitantly, seeing Ludwig staring at him with a slight frown. He gulped, nervous.

"Y-yes, Coach?"

Ludwig seemed to realise that he was scaring the smaller teen, and made an effort to relax his expression.

"Calm down, Vargas, you're not in trouble. But as you are one of our star players, I expect you to set an example to the others. That means not being late, alright?"

Feliciano nodded frantically, torn between panic and overwhelming happiness at the praise. "Yes, coach. I'm really sorry. I had something at home, that's all."

"Oh? Nothing troubling, I hope. I don't want you over exerting yourself if there's something on your mind. We need everyone to focus completely on practicing for now."

Feliciano shook his head, making his voice light as he replied. "N-nm, Coach. In fact, it's all good now! Everything's just great!"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, but as Feliciano offered no other explanation he simply smiled slightly and said "oh, well, that's good then", before turning to face the field. He raised an arm and blew the whistle, signalling everyone over.

"Alright! Now that everyone's here, let's do roll call. Bondevik."

"Here." That from a bored-looking boy with pale hair and a cross-shaped hairclip holding one side of his bangs back.

"Honda."

"here." A quiet reply from a smaller boy with dark hair in a neatly parted style.

"Fernandez."

"Here!" A tanned boy with a smiling face answered.

"Jones."

"That's me! The hero's here!" The boy who had fought yesterday called out, voice full of swagger. Ludwig sighed, while a ripple of laughter ran around the group.

"Laurinatis."

"Here." A tall boy with long brown hair called out.

"Łucasiewicz."

"Like, here." He stood lazily with one hand on his hip, apparently paying more attention to his nails than his coach.

"Steilsson."

"Here." Another boy with pale silver hair replied, his expression laconic.

"Vargas."

"Here!" Feliciano called out.

"Williams."

"I-I'm here." The boy in question answered, his voice sounding surprised, as if he didn't expect his name to be called.

"Yong Soo."

"He~re." A boy with dark hair and a playful expression answered.

"Wang."

"Here!" Answered an oriental boy with dark brown hair and eyes.

"And lastly, Zwingli."

"Here." A stern-faced blond boy answered seriously.

"Right. If everyone's here, let's begin practice. Same as yesterday, work on passing and see how we go. I trust you to divide yourself up into groups. Now, GO!"

The boys scattered into two groups of five, with the remaining pair acting as goalies.

On the whole, the practice seemed to go well, with the groups broadly coordinating, although there were still a few collisions. As before, Feliciano played as best as he could, trying to concentrate on his footing and the placing of his team. He couldn't help his mind turning to his brother, however, worrying about the meeting taking place inside the headmaster's office. As much as he tried not to let his feelings affect his play, he knew he was distracted and missed several goals. To his great relief, none of his teammates mentioned anything, most of them knowing or at least guessing the reason. After all, expulsion was a gossip-worthy topic in any school, and Lovino's behaviour had been the source of many rumours, as well as outright bets.

The same could not be said for Ludwig, however. Seeing one of his pupils so obviously preoccupied was not something he could ignore. They were in a stage of crucial preparation, he couldn't afford for any player to get distracted, no matter the reason. He remembered that the boy had said something about a problem at home, although he had said it was apparently sorted. He made a note to ask him about it after the practice, privately of course. No matter how bad a player was, no-one deserved to be called out in front of their peers.

I hope he's alright, whatever it is. I really can't afford to lose a player like him at a time like this.

Once practice ended, the boys all went back into the small building, following the same routine as the day before. Feliciano held back from joining in the chatter, his thoughts now fully occupied with concern for his brother.

"Feli."

He looked up from where he sat on the bench that ran along the middle of the room. Alfred stood in front of him with a concerned expression. Matthew stood behind him, looking equally worried.

"You ok, dude? You were playing kinda off today. Something up?"

Feliciano's face must have showed his worry, as the taller boy sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. "You wanna tell us what's up? You don't have to, but we're here if you need anything. Right, bro?"

Matthew nodded. "Yeah. I don't know if I can help, but I'll do whatever I can."

Feliciano smiled lopsidedly at them. "Thank you, but I'm fine. It's Lovi."

Alfred laughed. "Hah! When is it not that guy!" Matthew hit his brother, punching his arm.

"OW! Dude, what was that for!" he yelled.

Matthew simply glared at him, then pushed him aside and knelt in front of Feliciano. His voice was quiet as he asked gently "what about your brother, Feli? Is it something to do with his...issues at school?"

Feliciano hesitated, then eventually nodded. He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away a stray tear.

"He's in a meeting with Mr Kirkland right now."

The two boys looked at each other at the mention of their stepfather, knowing full well how many times Lovino had been sent to his office in the past. Alfred spoke first.

"Is that good? Or not?"

Feliciano laughed softly as Matthew elbowed his brother again. "you are so insensitive, you idiot" he muttered. He turned back to Feliciano again.

"but I guess his question is valid. I know our father can be a little, um, brusque, at times. But is this really the last chance for Lovino? From what I gather, dad really doesn't want to have to expel a pupil, if it can be prevented at all. Is that what this meeting is about?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, not really. Well, the opposite actually. Mr Kirkland sent a letter to Grandpa with a bunch of terms and stuff saying that if Lovi agrees, he won't be expelled. He didn't want to do it at first, but we argued and eventually he came round and agreed to it. I kind of hit him though." He flushed slightly and looked away from the pair, his voice trailing off.

"So what? I hit Mattie all the time. Don't I, bro?" He looked at his brother for backup.

Matthew smiled tersely. "Yeah, you do. And it freaking hurts. You are a terrible shot at baseball."

Alfred looked highly affronted. "DUDE! I am not! I kinda, just, don't see you. You need more, like, presence or something. Like me!"

"no, thank you. You're quite enough on your own. I am not going to be more like you." Matthew's face seemed to express mild horror at the mere thought.

Feliciano laughed at the brother's banter. The two turned back to him, pleased that their ploy had worked.

"So it's all right then?" Matthew asked, his expression serious again.

Feliciano nodded. "I think so. He has to see the school counsellor. But that's good, because-" He stopped himself before mentioning Antonio, somehow knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea to tell the headmasters sons that the new staff member had something of a history with the pupil he was supposed to be helping.

"Because?" The two looked confused.

Feliciano shook his head. "Nothing. Lovi has agreed to it, so it's all gonna be great! I just hope he hasn't yelled too much. Grandpa is there too, so he shouldn't get too mad. Hopefully."

The other two shared a look, but didn't say anything further. Matthew stood up and stretched.

"well, if everything's ok I guess we'd better go. Right, Al?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. See ya on Monday, dude! I'm gonna go shoot some hoops!" Saying that, he went over to his locker, leaving Matthew stood in front of Feliciano. He cleared his throat slightly, feeling more confident now that his brother had left.

"we're going to stay here too, though. Dad ran me and Al here in the car, so he's taking us back too. You can join us if you want, or I can stay with you until the meeting ends?"

Feliciano shook his head again, standing up to face Matthew. "n-nm. I'll be fine. Thank you for asking."

"ok. In that case, I'd better go and find my idiot brother." Matthew smiled and went over to collect his things. Feliciano watched him for a second, then turned to his own locker.

A voice cut through the silence in the room. "Boys? I thought I heard voices. Why are you still here? Practice ended almost half an hour ago."

The two jumped, looking up to see Ludwig standing in the doorway. Matthew spoke first.

"oh! I'm sorry, coach Beilschmidt. I was just talking to Feli. I'll, er, be going now." He gathered his things and hurried past Ludwig, shooting a worried glance at Feliciano as he left.

Feliciano was left in the room with Ludwig. He felt his heartbeat pick up again, suddenly scared. This is bad. Why does this keep happening?

Ludwig looked along the corridor "I'm actually glad you're still here, Vargas. I was hoping to catch you before you left."

Feliciano's face paled. This is about my playing today. Oh, god, he's gonna kick me off the team. Please no. First Lovi, now me, grandpa's gonna be mad.

Ludwig obviously noticed the panic on the teen's face.

"It's alright, Vargas. I just need to discuss today's practice with you. Sit down." Feliciano looked even more panicked, but lowered himself back onto the bench. Ludwig took a seat across from him.

He cleared his throat. "I won't drag this out. I think we both know you weren't at your best today. I understand that everyone has their off days occasionally, but I know you can play better than this." He sighed.

"You mentioned something about a problem at home, although you said it was sorted. That being said, is there anything going on that I, or the school, should know about? If something is going to interfere with you attending practice regularly we need to discuss it now so that we can make alternative arrangements. I don't want to have to take you off the team, but if it comes to it I need to be able to get another player as soon as possible. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Feliciano bit his lip, torn between voicing his concern or keeping up the cheerful act. Honesty won out, and he looked up at Ludwig with worried eyes.

"Well, actually, there is one thing. It's my brother..."

Ludwig sighed, his expression grim. At Feliciano's words, he remembered the other Vargas boy, Lovino. Although he had only been on the team for a few weeks, he had showed real promise. Unfortunately, his argumentative attitude and inability to play well with others had led to him being dismissed not long after joining. Ludwig had not seen him since, and had in all honestly not given him a second thought. He was too concerned with the players he had to think about those who might have been, after all. Careful to measure his voice, he asked

"What about him?"

Feliciano bit his lip again, his mouth quirking in a worried smile.

"He's in a meeting right now, with the headmaster."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Clearly he didn't change his behaviour, then. He resisted the urge to reply sarcastically, choosing to stay silent instead. It appeared to work, however, as Feliciano began to explain. His voice was slow at first, then rapidly picked up until he was almost babbling.

"He, um, hasn't been a...good student for a while, well since the start of the year really. He doesn't show up for class or do his work and he's always messing around and arguing with the teachers and talking back and things and I didn't really notice 'cause I was busy with school and practice and stuff but I guess it was getting worse cause when I got back from practice yesterday Antonio was there and we haven't seen him for years and apparently he's going to be a teacher at the school, well not a teacher, a psychologist, or a counsellor, something like that, and basically unless Lovi has 'sessions' with him like three times a week for a whole term and agrees to a whole bunch of other stuff he's gonna get expelled. Only he was saying that he wasn't gonna do it and grandpa and Toni were really worried so I said I'd make him agree and we argued a bunch and I kind of hit him, which I feel really bad about but it seemed to work 'cause he agreed to it after all, and now he's in there with them all and I'm just worried 'cause he really needs to not mess this up and I couldn't concentrate on playing because I was thinking about him and I'm really really sorry and I promise I'll play better next time so please don't kick me off the team!"

Ludwig, to his credit, listened to this outburst remarkably calmly, seeming unbothered by the little Italian's fast babble and apparent ignorance of the full stop. He understood well enough, however. He looked down at the boy in front of him, seeing Feliciano flushed-face and panting slightly from talking so fast.

"So, what you're saying is he is currently in a meeting to decide his future, and your distraction this morning was due to worry over your brother. Is that about it?"

Feliciano nodded, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

"yes, coach. I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.

Ludwig sighed, then, amazingly, reached over and ruffled Feliciano's hair. The boy looked up at him in surprise, his face radiating confusion. "Coach?"

"ah, sorry." Ludwig drew his hand back, embarrassed, then cleared his throat again.

"I'm glad you told me, Vargas. That being said' Feliciano's face paled again 'I really don't think there's anything to worry about" Ludwig continued.

Feliciano tilted his head in confusion. "If, as you say, your brother had already agreed to terms the school has given him, then this meeting is only a formality. I suspect that even if he were to demonstrate his usual behaviour it would not change the outcome. Your brother will be fine." Ludwig smiled in what he hoped was reassurance.

Feliciano smiled back weakly. "You think so?"

Ludwig nodded. "Yes." He checked his watch. "What time did this meeting start?" he asked.

Feliciano thought for a second. "Um, I think it was at nine."

"Alright. It's just gone 11o'clock now. I can't imagine it will have taken that long. Do you want to go and see if he is finished?"

Feliciano nodded, back to his smiling self. "Si! Er, I mean, yes please, coach."

Ludwig smiled despite himself at seeing Feliciano's sudden mood switch. "Alright then. Dismissed." He stood up and walked out of the room, pausing a moment in the doorway to look back at the boy. Feliciano was now humming to himself happily, his worry now completely forgotten.

"I'll, er, see you for practice on Monday, Vargas. Don't be late this time, please."

Feliciano whipped his head around at hearing Ludwig speak again. Flustered, all he could stammer out was "er, yes coach! I'll be on time. I promise!"

Ludwig chuckled quietly and went out of the room, leaving Feliciano standing where he was, blinking rapidly in confusion. His heartbeat quickened again. You idiot. Is that all you could think of? Stupid, stupid! He shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts. He gathered his coat and bag and slammed his locker shut, then went out into the corridor.

Right. Time to go see Lovi. This meeting had better have gone well.

Authors Note

Fernandez: headcanon name for Brazil. I needed a character that would realistically play football, and he would likely be the best. His first name would probably be Jose or something.

Wang: Leon, not Yao. In this, Leon lives with Yao and has his surname, and isn't related to Arthur. Matthew and Alfred's relationship will be explained in the next few chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

Feliciano walked back through the now-empty school. His shoes clicked on the shiny floor, matching his heartbeat. He wandered through the corridors, smiling slightly at the somehow forbidden thrill of being alone. No matter how old he was, it still felt strange to wander through the school when everyone else had left.

His feet took him to the office without realising, until he stood in front of the door. To his surprise, Lovino was standing outside, leaning against the wall with his usual bored expression. Feliciano couldn't resist running up to him and grabbing him in a fierce hug.

"LOVI! You're done already? How did it go? Was it all ok? How come you're out already? Where's grandpa? And Antonio? Are they still in there?" He peered over his brother's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the room through the tiny window.

Lovino let his brother hold him for a moment, then shook him off roughly. Annoyed, he replied "Its fine, you idiot. They shoved me out to finish things up. Paperwork, or something. Who cares."

Feliciano looked at him worriedly. He grabbed hold of his arm again, shaking it. "But it's all alright, si?" he asked in a small voice.

His brother looked at him for a long moment, debating whether to answer sarcastically or not. Eventually, he sighed. In a surprisingly calm voice, he answered "yes. It's all sorted."

"YES!" Feliciano hugged him again, tears of relief coming to his eyes.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Lovino yelled, now fed up with his brother's enthusiasm. "What's so great about all this, huh? I'm not gonna get expelled, sure, so now I have to put up with that stupid tomato bastard for a whole term. And I still have a stupid suspension for two stupid weeks. How is that great, huh?"

Feliciano simply giggled, releasing Lovino. "'Cause you're alright! It's great! Everything's great now!" he chirped happily. Lovino looked at him sideways, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but didn't say anything further.

They both turned around at the sound of the door opening. Roma stepped out, Antonio behind him. Roma laughed, seeing his grandsons.

"I thought I heard you, Feli. How was practice?"

"Grandpa!" Roma caught Feliciano as he hugged him. "Practice was good. I messed up a lot 'cause I was so worried about Lovi so coach wanted to talk to me after. But then I explained it all to him and now everything's fine! So now I'm gonna work really really hard so we can win!"

Roma chuckled. "You do that. I'll be proud of you no matter what. _Both_ of you." He looked at Lovino, who returned his grandfather's gaze with an expression that seemed torn between distrust and reluctant hope.

Antonio spoke up. "Feliciano, it's good to see you again. Roma, I'll get the paperwork sorted soon, but there shouldn't be any problem. Lovi, I gotta go now, but I'll see you in two weeks. Do not be late!" He waved to them all cheerily, then set off down the hallway. Lovino scowled, staring after him with an inscrutable expression.

"Well, if that's everything, gentlemen, I think we can all leave. I hope you all have a good weekend. Oh, Vargas junior. Is the team doing well?"

The three turned around to see Arthur exit his office, a briefcase in one hand. Feliciano nodded at the headmaster's question. "Yes sir! Coach says we could even win this year!"

"Well, that would certainly be something. Jolly good luck to you. One more trophy would certainly look good on the wall, wouldn't it?"

"Si!" Feliciano laughed happily. Arthur smiled kindly, then turned his attention to the other Vargas.

"And you, Lovino, just…remember what we've said. I don't expect a full change overnight. Just listen to what Mr Carriedo has to say and I have high hopes that you can be a perfect student by the end of year. Chin up, eh?"

Lovino looked like he wanted to say something, but muttered "yes sir" quietly. Taken aback at the lack of outburst, Arthur smiled tersely.

"Well, if that's everything, I'll be off. Best of luck with the games, Vargas. Now I'd better go and find my sons. No doubt they'll be wanting a ride home."

"They're outside, sir. Alfred wanted to play basketball." Feliciano chipped in helpfully.

"Oh really? I hope he's not done any damage. How I've manged to keep the house intact with him around, I do not know. Thank you for telling me, Vargas." He shook Roma and Feliciano's hands, nodded at Lovino, then walked off in the direction of the courts.

Roma turned to the two boys. "Well, boys, now that everything's sorted, let's go get some lunch, hey? We'll go out. A treat for my wonderful grandsons!" Feliciano laughed delightedly, then threw his hands up. "Yay! I love you, grandpa! Ooh, can I have pasta? Please? Please?"

Roma patted Feliciano's head. "Of course. Whatever you want, Feli." He turned his head to look at his elder grandson. "And you, Lovino? What would you like?"

Lovino looked faintly disgusted at his brother's childish behaviour. "I don't care. Whatever" he muttered.

"Lovino. Don't start now." Roma cautioned. Lovino simply rolled his eyes, but didn't talk back to his grandfather. Grudgingly, he followed him and his brother two as they made their way out to the car lot, tuning out Feliciano's usual pointless chatter during the drive.

In the end, they went to a fast-food place that served Italian, situated on the edge of town. To no-one's surprise, Feliciano immediately chose a table next to the window and sat swinging his legs and staring out. Now that he was back to his usual cheerful self, he kept chattering inanely to Roma, musing aloud about school and the upcoming games. At one point, he made an inadvertent comment about Ludwig, causing Roma to raise an eyebrow at him, but as Feliciano didn't seem to mean anything by it, he let it slide. Lovino noticed too, but kept quiet. If Feliciano wasn't willing to admit his feelings for his coach to himself yet, then he wasn't going to press the matter. He sat with his hand on his chin, staring aimlessly out of the window.

Their orders arrived, and even Feliciano stopped his stream of words to eat. Lovino didn't really pay attention to his food, his thoughts flying to the weeks ahead of him. Roma noticed his grandson's distraction.

"Lovi? Are you all right?"

The teen snapped out of his stupor to face his grandfather. "Uh, si, nonno."

Roma understood Lovino's faraway mind, however, and smiled kindly. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now, Lovi. Don't worry. The hardest part is over now. Just take the next week to relax and everything will be fine."

Lovino simply sighed and rolled his eyes. Why was everyone insisting on repeating that so often? He wasn't stupid, although he had certainly done some stupid things in the past, but even he knew that this opportunity was a big deal. Despite his attitude, he was genuinely grateful to be offered a chance to repent and redeem himself. He just wished everyone would stop acting like it was some kind of goddamn _miracle_. It just made it sound fake.

He toyed with his food, not really hungry. Eventually, he looked up at Roma, an unspoken question in his eyes. Roma simply nodded at him, making no comment as Lovino got up and walked out of the restaurant.

Feliciano looked confused, staring after his brother. "Grandpa, why did Lovi leave? Did his food taste bad?"

Roma chuckled. "No, Feli. Your brother just has a lot on his mind right now. Remember, it took a lot of courage to have that meeting with the headmaster. It took a lot of humility for him to accept help like. Let's let him have some time to think it over on his own, yes?"

Feliciano tilted his head, then nodded in uncharacteristic understanding. Then, quietly, he asked "he will be ok, though, right?"

Roma nodded and reached over to ruffle Feliciano's hair. "Si. Lovi will be fine now. As long as he actually listens to Antonio, that is. I'm very glad he agreed to come back." Feliciano tilted his head again. "Come back? What do you mean?"

Roma's mouth twisted, debating whether to reveal the truth to his grandson. In the end, he decided to tell him. His voice was serious as he answered.

"You mustn't tell Lovino this, alright?" Feliciano's face fell for a moment, then he nodded seriously. "Alright. You might not know this, but Antonio and I have kept in contact occasionally since you were little. I had heard from him that he was starting a child psychology course, and reached out to him. It was a long shot that he would agree to come here, when he was preparing to stay in Spain after he graduated. But I knew that your school was looking for a new counsellor, so I decided to take the chance." His face darkened slightly. "I must say he agreed rather quickly. I guess he was closer to Lovi when you were little than I thought. But anyway, that's the gist of it. Now don't tell him, remember? Your brother hates to accept help from anyone, and he wouldn't thank me for asking for help on his behalf, even if I am his grandfather. You know how stubborn he is."

Feliciano's face quirked in a smile. "Si. I had to hit him to agree to this." His face flushed as he realised what he had said. "I'm sorry, nonno. I forgot that."

Roma, however, looked faintly amused. "You did, huh? I did think Lovi's face was a little red. Well, no matter. It worked. I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"Will he?" Feliciano looked worried. Roma chuckled again. "I'm sure he's already forgotten. Now, finish your food."

"Si, nonno!"

They finished their meal together, then ordered dessert. Luckily, the restaurant allowed leftovers to be taken, meaning that they could order something for Lovino as well. Feliciano took great delight in ordering a slice of something richly indulgent and covered in chocolate. Despite his brother's rough attitude, Feliciano knew Lovino shared the same sweet tooth as he did.

Outside, Lovino was oblivious to his family's discussion. He walked across the car park, kicking a pebble along, until he reached a small, grassy hill at the edge of the lot. He sat down on a small tuft, his head in his hands, staring moodily out into the distance. He could hear the faint sound of traffic coming from the road, mixed with the music blasting out from the restaurant's entrance.

"You ok, kiddo?"

The voice startled Lovino out of his reverie, and he looked up to see who had addressed him. The guy leaning over him looked to be a few years older, with startlingly pale hair and almost violet eyes. From the uniform he was wearing and the cigarette he held loosely in one hand, he was obviously a worker, on his own lunch break presumably. Lovino didn't answer.

"Hey, kiddo. It's not nice to ignore people. Especially people as awesome as me."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, his temper rising again. He could feel a scowl forming again. The pale haired man laughed it off, however.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I'm not a creep. Just a bummed-out kitchen worker escaping the daily grind to have a fag break. What's got your goat?"

Despite himself, Lovino was intrigued by the man's rough speech. He looked down at the floor. "School trouble" was all he said.

The pale man laughed. "School, huh? Tough shit. Whaddya do, get yourself expelled?"

Lovino shook his head.

"That's good. It's not a good idea, kiddo. Trust me. Do stupid shit that gets you kicked out like I did and it'll only get you ending up like me. Stuck out here in a dead-end job with no prospects. Course, I got kicked out waaaay earlier than you. How old are ya, kiddo? 16? 17?"

"17" Lovino answered quietly. He was interested despite himself now. He looked up at the man. "What did you do? Not that I care."

The man laughed again. He took a deep drag on his cigarette before replying. "Tough guy, huh? That's cool. What I did wasn't, though. Started out with dumb stuff like talking back, playing hooky, generally acting up. I was also accused of 'sexual harrassment', but that's only 'cause Lizzie was a stuck-up bitch and refused to go out with me. So I turned to worse shit. Theft, arson, you name it. Got caught with pot more times than I'd like to admit. Probably spent more time off my face than sober sometimes."

Lovino's eyes widened, and he stared at the cigarette curiously. The man noticed, and laughed again. His laugh was quite annoying, Lovino thought. It sounded more like he was coughing, making a little sound that he could only think of as 'kesesese'.

"Don't even think about it, kid. This shits only tobacco. Anyway. I guess I fucked up one too many times, 'cause I got my ass handed to me by the cops. Got sent to juvie – brilliant place by the way, don't ever go there – and voila! Stuck in a dead-end job out here in the sticks, serving pizza and washing dishes. Life's great, in'it?" he grinned down at Lovino.

"So how about you, kiddo? You said you weren't expelled, so why the long face?"

Lovino's scowl deepened. Normally he would have told the stranger to leave by now, and in rather vulgar language, but for some reason the man's blunt manner and coarse way of speaking was actually incredibly refreshing. If he was honest with himself, he was rather amazed by the honesty the man had shown, telling Lovino the sordid details of his life without any reservations. He decided to do the same, matching the stranger's honesty with his own.

"For a start, my name isn't 'kiddo', it's Lovino. My brother calls me Lovi, but don't even think of it. Anyway. I didn't do half the crazy shit you just said. I just messed around and cut class and stuff. At first they'd send people to find me and I'd get dragged to the headmaster, but I guess no-one really cares after all 'cause they stopped after about a month or so. So I kept cutting class more till I missed more lessons than I was in. But no-one cares about me. Not when there's _Feli_ to think about." His voice turned bitter, as if he were holding back tears, and he kept his glare stubbornly on the ground. To his great relief, the strange man didn't say anything, just stood and let Lovino continue, occasionally taking a drag of his cigarette.

Lovino continued. "Do you know what that's like? To have everyone think that you'll never be good enough, that you'll never amount to anything because there'll always be _them_ next to you, being a bright shining fucking light like some kind of goddamn _angel_." He gave a bitter laugh. "But guess what? It turns out someone _does_ care after all, 'cause I got sent a fucking letter by the school saying that I have to agree to a bunch of stupid terms or I'm gonna get fucking expelled for real this time. Except they didn't even bother to fucking send the letter to _me_. They send it to my grandfather instead, and _he_ calls them and arranges a fucking meeting without even telling me. So now I gotta have fucking _sessions_ with the fucking _counsellor_ , who by the way is my old fucking _babysitter_ , and a tomato bastard to boot, the damn Spaniard, so now I'm stuck seeing him three times a fucking week for a whole fucking _term_ , at which point the school will 'evaluate my fucking progress' and decide if I get kicked out for good. So yeah, shoot me for having a fucking _'long face"._

He stopped his rant abruptly, red in the face and scowling deeply. The stranger looked at him impassively, waiting for Lovino to regain his composure. He gave a sigh, taking one last drag of his cigarette, then dropped it on the ground and stubbed it out, grinding it with the toe of his ratty, worn-out sneakers. He glanced at Lovino side-long, then stared across the parking lot. His voice was measured and calm as he spoke.

"First off, my name's Gilbert. Call me Gil. Or the awesome me. I'm Prussian, by the way. Anyway. I'll admit that's pretty tame compared to the shit I got myself into, but that's pretty messed up. But hey, at least your school cares enough to think about a counsellor, ja? Mine just called the cops on me." A thought seemed to occur to him, and he looked down at Lovino, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Hey, hey, hey, hold up. You said your name is Lovino, yes?" The boy in question nodded slowly, his face showing immediate distrust.

Gilbert burst out laughing. Lovino stared at him, his radiating anger. "What the hell is so funny, you albino bastard?!" he said.

Gilbert didn't reply, but wiped a tear away from his eye. "You said this counsellor of yours is Spanish, ja? Is there any chance his name is Antonio? Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?"

Lovino looked startled, but nodded. Frowning, he asked "What? You know him or something?"

Gilbert laughed again. He laughed too damn much, Lovino thought. "Hell yes I know him. He got me into half the crazy shit I did!" He finally stopped laughing, and looked at Lovino seriously. He sighed.

"Me, Toni and other guy, Francis, we were always together. We were kinda outcasts at school, didn't really fit in, so we were like our own little gang. We even had a name. people called us the 'Bad Touch Trio', 'cause we seemed to break everything we touched – 'cept it was also partly 'cause the girls hated us and were always claiming we'd touched them or some shit – don't look at me like that, anything that happened was purely consensual, well, mostly, Francis went too far occasionally, but he's French, so what do you expect?"

Lovino was still looking at him distrustfully. Gilbert coughed. "Anyway. Like I said, we got into a bunch of stupid shit, and eventually it caught up with us. Francis got off 'cause his dad was some high flyer or some shit, but me and Toni weren't so lucky, and got hauled to juvie. Toni seemed to actually feel guilty or something, 'cause he threw himself into studying and shit, even finished high school, got his fucking diploma and all, and he was outta there in like a year. Me, however, being the dumb fuck I am, kept messing around, so I got a longer sentence. Got out after 3 years, give or take, and slapped with a bunch of terms, as you put them. Course, mine came with an ankle bracelet and community order, you get my drift. I got this job 'cause the boss was all into the whole 'helping people' and 'second chances' and shit. So here I am. Stuck washing plates and serving people pizza and shit while I supposedly work on 'turning my life around". Sob story, ain't it?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Boo hoo for you, bastard. What the hell has that got to do with me?"

Gilbert coughed again. "Right, sorry. So Toni and me, we kept in touch, ja? He probably felt like he wanted to help or something, since he was all 'changed' and the 'good guy' now. So after he'd been out like a year or so, while I'm still doing time, he tells me that he's gonna do a degree in _child psychology_ or something, so he can help kids like him. Cliché, ja? Anyway, he calls me up like a couple of months ago and rambles about how he's got a call from some old Italian guy called Roma who's kid he used to look after. He tells me the kid's in trouble with his school and on his way to doing exactly the dumb shit we got into, and there's miraculously a job offer for a counsellor, and can he help? So he says he's gonna do it even though it means moving back over here – he lives in Spain, went over after he graduated, but you knew that, ja? – so he's gonna get that all settled and shit. So he rushes all the moving stuff and all that shit, and I didn't really think about it all that much, except that it would be cool with him living here, even though it's a total dump. So he moved over like a couple weeks ago, says he's gonna start the job in a week and starts sessions with the kid after he's done a suspension. Point being, guess the kid he's on about is you, huh?"

Lovino nodded, dazed. He sat in silence, blinking in surprise as he absorbed everything Gilbert had said. So Grandpa had rung him to ask for his help, even though he lived in a different country, just to see if he could help him? And Antonio had said And Antonio had said _yes_? On what basis? Yes, he had been close to him as a child, but he doubted that was enough to make Antonio decide to up and move all the way here just to accept an offer at a school in a city he didn't even live in, just to try and help one student who didn't even know help was being offered? It was too suspicious. Why had Antonio agreed at all? What had made Grandpa decide to call him? An awful suspicion hit him. Gilbert had said Antonio took a degree in child psychology in order to help what he had called ' _kids like them_ '. Was that all anyone saw him as? A 'troubled child' to whom intervention was necessary only to stop them from committing dangerous, possibly criminal behaviour? Was he simply a charity case, one that Antonio took on for the sake of helping a friend? Was he just a way for Antonio to feel good about himself, knowing that he had 'saved' a kid he had barely any connection to?

The mixture of thoughts was making him dizzy. He hadn't even realised he was crying until he felt Gilbert kneel down next to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Shit, kid, are you ok? Fuck, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Lovino blinked angrily and wiped a hand across his face. He shook his head fiercely. Gilbert seemed to understand though, and stood up again.

"I get ya, kid. You wanna know why it seems like everyone is suddenly bending over backwards to help you. You feel, _I don't deserve this. No one cares about me, so why are they even bothering to try?_ Then you start to think they're just in it for some goody-two shoes shit, like they're the fairy fucking godmother. Well, guess what? You can't just wave a fucking magic wand and fix everything. Life doesn't work that way. It takes time, and effort, a goddamn _ton_ of effort, to even start to think about changing yourself. And all the time you're thinking, and doubting that anyone means it when they try to help. So you compare yourself to everyone around you, thinking that they're all fucking judging you, waiting for you to slip up or some shit and land you back at square one. So you think about giving up, 'cause if no one believes you can change, why should you even bother? Better to sink back down into their bad expectations and live as a failure, since that's all they're ever gonna see you as. Even more so when have someone there who seems like they're gonna outshine you no matter what you do. You're never gonna match them, so why the fuck would you even try?"

He stopped speaking and looked down at Lovino. The teen stared up at him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Gilbert gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"yeah, kid, we're in the same boat. I got a little brother. He's a year or two older than you, and a right golden boy. Top of his year, pick of any college he wanted. He does sports psychology now, even coaches a kids team on his days off, he tells me. And at the same time I'm both so damn proud of him for not getting into the shit I did, even if it does mean we barely speak, and I hate him for how everything just seems to come naturally to him. Hell, the guy even _looks_ a thousand times better than I ever will. He's got the whole blond-haired, blue-eyed thing going for him, courtesy of our dad, while get _this_ -' he tugged a lock of his short white hair. "Albinism, kid. This is coloured contacts" – he pointed to his eyes, made violet by the natural pink tone, Lovino realised- "Point is, I know what it's like to think bad about yourself, probably a hell of a lot more than you do. That said, you're a lucky one, kiddo."

Lovino raised an eyebrow quizzically. Gilbert looked at fully. His voice was truly sincere as he continued "Antonio really does want to help you. He was practically crying when he rang me the first time. I don't know how you know each other, but he seems like he really cares about you, kid. Let him help. From the sounds of it, your brother – I'm guessing that's who meant by this Feli person, ja?' Lovino nodded, 'is the same as Luddy – my brother-. You want to think that no-one cares about _you_ personally, that your nothing more than a statistic to them. That probably is true with most of the fuckers that do that counselling shit, but not Toni. Getting sent to juvie really changed him. He realised what a mess he'd made of his life, and he genuinely wants to make sure no one else has to go through that if he can help it. So suck it up. I'm not gonna lie, it'll be the hardest fucking thing to walk into that office the first time. But stick with it. Don't end up like I did. You're young, you've made a couple of mistakes, but it's not worth giving up over. Give it the term, stick to the rules the school's given you, however shitty you think they are, and give it your all. And if anyone tries to judge you for it or make out that you're not good enough, just stick it to 'em and use show 'em. Spite is one of the best things you can use as a motivator. And if you get a day when you can't deal with them and their dumb hypocrisy, 'cause no-one's fucking perfect, you get Toni to drive you here and we'll all sit and laugh at them, ja? How does that sound?"

Lovino had listened to this in stunned silence. How had Gilbert been able to voice his deepest thoughts, his insecurities, his feelings of guilt and lack of self-worth? He felt a strange sense of solidarity with this strange man, and not just from their shared experience. Somehow, in knowing that someone else had gone through the same things as him, only much, much worse, he had managed something that Grandpa and Feliciano would never have been able to. He was suddenly amazingly thankful for whatever had made him come out here, and meet Gilbert. He started laughing, the relief bubbling up in him uncontrollably.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him. "Fuck, kid, you're not supposed to _laugh_ when someone gives you damn life advice, you know?"

Lovino kept giggling, eventually calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I-I'm sorry, bastard. It's just, no-one else would have said something like that. Normal people don't go around telling their fucked up life story to a random kid they meet in a car park." He stood up and looked at Gilbert, his face suddenly serious. "But thank you. I really needed to hear what you said. I'll try to believe in the tomato bastard. I won't promise anything though." He flushed in embarrassment, clearly unsure with what he had just said. Gilbert chuckled and reached out to ruffle his hair, somehow avoiding Lovino's curl.

"That's ok, kiddo. And I know how much that means. Guess you're the type who doesn't like to thank others, or say sorry. So thank you too for listening to my shitty rant. Buddies?"

Lovino nodded, hesitantly. "Buddies." He tilted his head to the side, his face curious. "What about the other guy though? The French one. What happened to him?"

Gilbert raised his face to the sky in thought. "Francis? Lemme think. Last I heard he had moved to states to 'find himself'. Got shacked up with some chick he met there. Then when she was killed, car crash I think, he moved back to France, leaving his kid. I think he got adopted by his aunt or something. Anyway, he lives in France now. I'm sure he's just as much as a ponce as he was when we were kids. But as far as I know, he's not in trouble or shit like that. Why?"

Lovino frowned. That sounded incredibly familiar. He blinked in surprise as he realised why. Curiously, he asked "do you know what his kid's name was?"

Gil matched his expression of surprise, thinking. "God, I don't know. Wait, actually. He did say once, rang me gushing when he was born. Matt something, I think? No, wait, he insisted it be French. Mattieu? Yeah, that was it. Mattieu. He got called Mattie. Why d'you wanna know?"

Lovino frowned. "He's in my year at school. He's the headmasters' son. And if 'Luddy' is short for Ludwig and your surname is Beilschmidt, then your brother is my brother's football coach. And mine, till I got kicked off the team."

Gilbert let out a bark of laughter. "God damn! Holy shit, its true what they say. The world really is really fucking small after all." He laughed again. "That's so crazy!"

Lovino looked pensive for a moment, then joined in. Both of them laughed happily, amazed at the coincidences.

Their laughter was interrupted by the arrival of Roma and Feliciano, who had finished their meal and come to find Lovino.

"Lovi? It's time to go. Who is your new friend?" Roma asked politely, but with a thread of danger. He took in Gilbert's scruffy appearance and the cigarette but lying at his feet.

"Don't get huffy, old man. I'm a friend of Toni's. I was just giving Lovino here some advice."

Roma furrowed his brow and looked at his grandson. "Is this true. Lovi?" Lovino nodded. "He was really helpful." Roma raised an eyebrow in surprise. If Lovino said that so unreservedly, then whatever this stranger had said must have been truly amazing. He held out a hand to the man.

"Roma Vargas."

Gilbert looked at him in surprise, but shook the offered hand.

"Gilbert Beilshmidt. Call me Gil. And it's true, I've known Toni for years." He somehow doubted Roma would be pleased to know exactly _how_ he knew him.

Feliciano had gasped at hearing the name, however, and was staring at Gilbert delightedly.

"You have the same surname as Coach! He said he had an older brother! Is that you?"

Gilbert laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, that's me. Tell him I said hi, would'ya?" Feliciano nodded happily. "Si!" he turned to Lovino, holding out a packet of something. "Here, Lovi. You left before dessert, so I got you something. It's cake." Lovino took the packet from him, muttering a thanks.

"Boys, go wait in the car." Roma startled the two, handing the keys to Lovino. He took them cautiously. He looked between the two. He guessed what Roma wanted to talk to him to, and took hold of Feliciano's arm, dragging him towards the car.

Roma waited until the two were safely out of earshot, then spoke. "I suppose you are the 'Gil' that Antonio mentioned sometimes?"

Gilbert nodded. "And I guess from your tone that he must have told you about me?" Roma tilted his head. "Bits and pieces. Enough to know that you are the not the type of person I would want my grandson to associate with. However," he stopped, seeing Gilbert's twisted smile "Whatever you said to him, I have not seen him laugh like that on his own for a very long time. Thank you."

Gilbert seemed taken aback by that. Ruefully, he replied "Actually, I was telling Lovino how bad I fucked up when I was his age, and that no matter how bad he thinks things are, he had a chance to change. I tried to convince him that Toni really does want to help him." He looked away, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. He's a much better person than I'll ever be. I'll admit that in a heartbeat."

Roma looked at the other man in surprise. Gently, he said quietly "I think Antonio cares for you deeply too. From what I gather, he wants to help you too."

Gilbert looked at him sharply, then laughed. "yeah, I guess he would. Well, when you see him, tell him we can meet up sometime. I work most days at this place, so you know where to find me." He smiled quickly, then looked down at his watch as a thought hit him.

"Shit. My break ended like fifteen minutes ago. Crap, I gotta go. Maybe if I tell my boss I was talking a kid out of being a delinquent he'll let me off. He totally digs the whole second chance thing. That's how I got hired, anyway. Tell the kid I'll see him around, ja?" He shook Roma's hand quickly, then sprinted across the parking lot, hurriedly tidying his hair and straightening his clothes as he ran.

Roma quirked a smile at the strange man, then shook his head. Despite the little he had heard from Antonio regarding his exploits in his younger years, now that he had met Gilbert he sensed that the man had truly left that life behind him. He was even willing to let Lovino talk to him more, knowing that his experience with crime and the mark it had left on him would allow him to talk to Lovino on a far more even keel than he would. As long as Antonio vouched for him, of course.

He walked back over to the car, finding Lovino and Feliciano fighting over what to play on the radio. He answered their argument by sliding into the driver's seat and changing the channel himself. They drove home peacefully, for once Lovino actually joining in with his brother's chatter. Roma smiled at his grandson's in the mirror. Everything was looking up.

Lovino was joking at something Feliciano said, their faces flushed with laughter. He caught his grandfather's eye in the mirror and smiled tentatively. He held on to something Gilbert had said. With the meeting gone and agreed, the worst was over. Now to get through the next two weeks and start turning his life around. He could do it. With Toni's help, he _would_ get through this.


	7. Chapter 7

Feliciano went to practice that Monday with a lighter heart than he had felt in a long time. With Lovi sorted, he felt like a weight he hadn't even know he had been bearing had been lifted from his shoulders. If he was honest with himself, he knew that it was partly due to a sense of guilt, blaming himself for not knowing how his brother was feeling, how far his behaviour had gone. He couldn't help blaming himself being so blind, for only being concerned with himself, his team, his friends, and forgetting about his brother. He was determined to change that, however, and had resolved to try and pay more attention to Lovino from now on.

To that end, he had sneaked into his brother's room this morning, the notes from the classes they shared clutched in his hand. He knew that Lovino's pride would never unbend enough to allow him to ask Feliciano for the help. He could do nothing about the classes Lovino had separately from him, however. He hoped he would be able to ask someone, but doubted it. Oh well. If not, he would ask Antonio for help. Discreetly, of course. Lovino would be furious if he found out.

Giggling, he went into the changing rooms, for once one of the first ones there. He had not forgotten Ludwig's warning to be on time, after all. He looked around the room. It was almost empty, Alfred, Matthew and the two pale-haired brothers the only others there. Alfred yelled a greeting across the room when Feliciano entered, making Matthew flinch and hit his arm.

"Shut up, Al! Do you even understand the concept of an indoor voice?" he snapped. Alfred's eyes widened in surprise, then he laughed.

"Jeez, Mattie, what's up with you? 'Sides, its Feli! YO, dude, how's it going?"

Feliciano giggled again, shutting his locker and walking over to the pair.

"Everything's great! It's all good now!" he chirped.

Alfred grinned. "Cool!" Matthew smiled as well. "So I take it the meeting went well, then?" he asked. Feliciano nodded. "Yup! Lovi was done when I got there, so Grandpa took us out for lunch!"

He gasped as he remembered something. "Oh yeah, and get this! Lovi got bored so Grandpa said he could go outside, and when we went out to find him, he was talking to this weird guy with white hair who said he's coach's older brother! How amazing is that?!" he giggled.

Matthew and Alfred looked at each other, surprised. "Coach Beilshmidt has a brother?" Matthew said quietly. His face turned pensive. "I wonder what he's like?"

Alfred laughed in his usual loud manner. "I bet he's crazy strict, same as coach. I mean, he's gotta be, if their brothers. Brothers are all the same, am I right?"

Matthew hit him.

Feliciano giggled again. "You're silly, Al. come on, lets get outside. If we go now, we can be first ones out, then coach won't be mad at us!" The other two nodded, then followed him outside.

As usual, Ludwig was standing out on the field, clipboard in hand. He was obviously working something out, as they heard him muttering about positions and players, looking from the clipboard to the field with a focussed frown. He didn't seem to hear the three approach, still engrossed in his plans.

"Hello coach Beilschmidt!" Feliciano called. Matthew put a hand over his face. For someone in his second to last year of high school, the Italian could be remarkably childish sometimes. Then he looked over at his friend, seeing the faint flush on Feliciano's cheeks, and smiled softly. _Ah. So that's it._ He sauntered over to where the practice balls were kept, and took one out, then began practicing strikes.

Matthew was actually a remarkably good striker, able to use his ability to blend into the background to his advantage. Often, the goalie failed to even notice his presence until it was too late, the ball sailing into the goal unimpeded. Of course, it depended on whether his teammates actually remembered to pass to him, but during the course of the year they seemed to realise what an amazing asset he was to the team, and he was now something of a mascot.

Back at the entrance, Feliciano took the chance to pass on Gilbert's message. He approach the tall German nervously, unsure how to broach the subject. He decided to go with boldness.

"Um, coach. I have something to tell you."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Ja? What would that be?"

Feliciano tilted his head. "Um, see, we went out for lunch on Saturday, 'cause Lovi's meeting had finished and it all went really good, but then he got bored and went out and when we found him he was talking to this guy and he said he was your brother and he told me to tell you hi and he wants to meet up with you sometime".

Ludwig absorbed this news in silence. After a while, he simply said "Oh."

Feliciano took a step back. "Uh, was it not him? He said his surname was Beilshmidt, so I asked if he was related to you, 'cause its not a very common name, and he said yes. Then he said to tell you hi and he said he wanted to see you. it was him, wasn't it? He had white hair, and his eyes were a pretty sort of violet colour, I remembered 'cause it looked odd. But really nice." He faltered, worrying that he had said something wrong.

"It's contacts" Ludwig murmured.

"huh?"

Ludwig shook his head, then sighed and straightened up, staring down at Feliciano.

"Sorry. Yes, that sounds like Gilbert. He's several years older than me, so we don't have very much in common. I'm not surprised your brother seemed to like him, from what you've told me they sound like they would have a lot in common. His eyes appear violet because he wears blue contact lenses. They aren't just for show, he needs them to protect his eyes from ultraviolet rays. His condition makes them sensitive." He stopped abruptly, realising he had said far more detail than necessary.

Feliciano didn't seem bothered, though. "Cool! So it's like wearing sunglasses all the time! Well, he seemed really cool. Lovi was smiling after we left, and he never does that when he meets someone new, so he must have really liked him."

Ludwig looked down at him, an inscrutable expression on his face. Feliciano tilted his head again, questioning.

"Coach? Do you not want to see him? He sounded kind of sad. I think he misses you."

Ludwig looked vaguely uncomfortable. He looked away. After a few moments, he sighed.

"We have…different lifestyles. We do not get on very well."

"oh." Was all Feliciano said. He knew he and Lovino didn't always see eye to eye, ( _more like rarely, if ever_ ) but he couldn't imagine them falling out to the point of refusing contact with each other.

Ludwig realised the younger teen seemed upset, and quirked a smile. "Well, if he seemed so set on it, I suppose I can give him a call. Did he say what time would be suitable for him?"

Feliciano shook his head. "nuh-uh. Just that he's working most days, so you can find him at his job. He works at the pizza place outside town."

Ludwig nodded. "Ja. Good to know. Thank you, Vargas, for telling me."

"No problem, coach!" Feliciano turned, then walked off to join Matthew and Alfred. The rest of the team had joined them now. Ludwig let them practice on their own for a while, then blew the whistle, signalling the start of the practice.

The rest of the week went well. His soccer practice went brilliantly now that he could concentrate fully on the game, and by the next Saturday, Ludwig was sufficiently pleased with their progress to congratulate them all. The praise, of course, spurred them all on, fuelled with the prospect of winning their first game, which had been decided on as to take place the following week.

Feliciano took detailed notes in all of his classes, and spent every night copying them out to leave in Lovino's room. He had no idea whether his brother was actually looking at them, but a hurried conversation with Roma while Lovino was in the bathroom one evening revealed that he seemed to be taking the suspension seriously enough. His grandfather explained that for the first few days Lovino had treated his time off as nothing more than a holiday, after which point Roma threatened to call Antonio and tell him exactly what his soon-to-be student was doing. That appeared to be enough of a threat to force the teen into reluctant action, and he had spent the rest of the week in (semi) diligent study.

Things came to a head, however, when he heard a muffled yell coming from Lovino's bedroom. Rushing upstairs in a worried hurry, the two found Lovino close to tearing his hair out from trying to puzzle out quadratic equations. Thereafter, Roma had spent what time he could helping Lovino out during the day, and Feliciano did what he could (or rather, as much as Lovino would let him) with anything else. The end result was that Lovino was, if not quite ready to become a perfect student, at least had some form of evidence to show Antonio his intent to redeem himself and his studies when he returned to school.

Of course, nothing could ever stay so perfect for long. The bump in the road showed itself after the practise game. Matthew had come into school that Saturday with a distinctly troubled expression, and spent most of the morning looking alternately worried, frightened and almost angry. When Feliciano asked him if he was alright, he merely got "We'll see" in response. Alfred seemed equally upset, but in an uncharacteristically quiet tone told Feliciano that it wasn't his place to say what was wrong.

They managed to win the game, however, but even that didn't seem to cheer the two up. Feliciano noticed that Matthew hung back after the game had ended. He watched as the taller boy went up to Ludwig, obviously asking to speak with him. The two went into his office, and returned some fifteen minutes later. Ludwig clapped a hand on Matthew's shoulder, and Feliciano caught the words "..can't be helped. It's very inconsiderate of him, but family is important. Don't worry about it. We'll sort something out. It won't be for long, ja?"

Matthew nodded. Feliciano strained to hear his response, and made out "..should just be a couple of weeks, a month at the most. I'm not sure." He didn't look particularly happy.

He walked into the changing room to find all eyes on him. Ludwig stood behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Listen up, everyone."

The room quietened immediately. Ludwig continued. "Matthew will be leaving our team for a while. Don't worry, it isn't forever, but we will need to find a substitute scorer for the next few games. This won't be a problem, but I don't want it to affect the team." The boys nodded. Matthew turned to look up at Ludwig, who nodded.

Matthew sighed. "So, I don't know if Al has told you guys this yet' his brother shook his head, his face serious for once 'but something's come up, and I'm gonna be away for about a month. Maybe longer. I'll, uh, I'll miss you guys." He blushed, uncomfortable with being in the spotlight. Ludwig cleared his throat.

"Well, that was all I needed to say. I'll see you all at practice on Monday. Have a safe journey, Williams." He went out of the room, going back to his office.

A hush fell over the room. The little blond, Feliks, was the first to speak.

"So, you're gonna be, like, away? When are you leaving? You're, like, the best striker we have. Come back soon, ok? We're gonna, like, miss you so much." He made as if to go up and hug Matthew. He was pulled back by Toris, his not-quite-official boyfriend. "Feliks is right, Matthew. You're one of our best players. I'll look forward to you coming back. I hope everything goes well for you while you're away."

"Um, thanks guys. My flight's tomorrow, so I'll be leaving for the airport then. I'm not really sure when I'll be back, but it'll be about a month or so."

José, the Brazilian transfer student, went up to Matthew and clapped him on the shoulder, then gave him a one-armed hug.

"Have a safe trip, yeah? The team will be fine, don't worry. We'll win for you, won't we guys?" Matthew laughed. "Thanks, José. I know you guys will win."

"We will." The blond-haired boy, Vash, crossed his arms. "Have a safe trip. We will make sure to uphold the standard of the team. The absence of one member should not affect the rest of the players."

Matthew blinked, unsure what to say to that. "um, thank you, Vash. That's, um, good to know."

"Hmph. Now, if you don't mind, I need to go. My little sister is waiting for me to pick her up from her dance class. Goodbye." He walked out of the room.

The two pale-haired boys, Lukas and Emil, seemed unconcerned with the news. Eventually, Lukas, the elder, stepped forward. He, too, shook Matthew's hand. "Have a safe trip." He said, quietly. Matthew nodded. "Thanks."

Lukas stepped back. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up from the bench. He glared at the screen. Grabbing his bag, he motioned for his brother to follow him. "I'm sorry, Matthew. My idiot boyfriend is waiting for us, so we have to go. Bye."

"uh, no problem. See you guys."

If anyone was surprised by that revelation, they didn't show it. Kiku spoke up, quietly.

"I hope your trip goes well, Matthew-kun. Please give my regards to your family."

Matthew smiled. "I will, Kiku. Thank you." The smaller boy smiled awkwardly. His phone chimed softly. "Oh, I am sorry. My guardian is calling me. We will have to go now. Yong-Soo, Leon."

His cousins waved at Matthew. "So~rry! Yao gets real mad when we're late. Gotta bust it! I'm gonna miss you, so have a safe trip or whatever and we'll totally see you when you get back!" Yong-Soo and Leon high-fived him, each saying "see ya!" then followed Kiku out of the room, Yong-Soo chattering animatedly.

That just left Feliciano. The three stood in silence for a moment, then Matthew slumped to the bench, exhausted from being the centre of attention. He sat with his hands in his lap, frowning.

Feliciano waited a moment, then went over to him and hugged him tightly. Matthew flinched, then clutched Feliciano's arms. He drew away after a while, Feliciano shocked to see tears on his face.

"Mattie? What's wrong?!"

Matthew sniffled and laughed softly. "Nothing. I'm just not sure how I feel about leaving, that's all."

Feliciano looked at him worriedly. "But you're only going to be away for a month! That's nothing! I can take notes for you. So will Al. You won't be behind, if that's what you're worried about. You're really smart." He stopped.

"Wait. How come both of you aren't going?" he asked, confusion written on his face.

Matthew and Alfred shared a look. Al shrugged, leaning against the wall. He looked at his brother with a soft expression. "It's up to you, bro. You tell him if you want."

Matthew's gaze hardened, then turned serious. "Alright. Feli, listen."

Feliciano looked worried, but sat next to Matthew. "Si?"

"This is kind of weird to say. Um. I haven't really told anyone else this, but a while ago me and Al found out we're not really brothers."

Feliciano drew back in shock slightly, but didn't say anything. Matthew continued. "So, it turns out my mother died when I was about a year old. I was adopted by my aunt, my mother's sister. She already had a son of her own, the same age as me, so she agreed to raise us as brothers. So me and Al are still related, but we're cousins, not twins." His face twisted, mouth hardening.

"My father, apparently, had left when my mother died, I guess because he couldn't deal with caring for a baby on his own. It turns out I'm actually Canadian, at least by birth, which I suppose explains the accent. But my father is French. He went back to France after my mother died, and has lived there ever since. The reason why I'm leaving is because he contacted me for the first time. Apparently his mother, my paternal grandmother, is very ill, and she has asked to meet me, before, well.." he trailed off.

"So you're going to France to see your family?" Feliciano asked quietly. Matthew nodded. "And you didn't tell the others where you were going 'cause you didn't want to tell them all this as well?"

Matthew smiled softly. "You know, you're a lot smarter than people take you for, Feli."

Feliciano grinned. He sat up and hugged Matthew again. "But you'll be ok, right? And you'll get to see your father, won't you? Are you excited?"

Matthew twisted his mouth again. "I'm not entirely sure" he said finally. "It's a lot to take in all at once. But, I suppose it's good to know the truth." He looked up at Alfred. "But I understand why everyone chose not to tell me until now. I probably wouldn't have understood it when I was little. But mostly I'm just glad that Al's still my brother, even if he is an annoying jerk at times."

Alfred stood away from the wall. He hugged Matthew tightly. "I love you too, bro." he drew away.

"But I am not annoying! I mean, sure, I get a little loud at times, but it's just 'cause you're so quiet! I'm, like, loud for both of us!" he looked proud of himself with his logic.

Matthew smiled at him. "yeah, whatever." His face turned thoughtful.

"You know, me going away could actually be very good timing."

"Huh?" Feliciano and Alfred said together. Matthew giggled. "Well, with me gone, you'll need a new player, right?"

The two nodded, unsure where Matthew was headed. The blond continued. "And playing a sport is a really good way to make friends and learn teamwork, right?"

Neither of the two seemed to realise what he meant. Matthew cursed inwardly that his brother and friend, brilliant people that they were, could be incredibly dense.

"SO, it just so happens that we all know someone who could really benefit from chance to be part of team. Show willing, inclusion in student activities, eh?"

The penny still didn't drop. He sighed.

"Dude, just tell us already." Alfred said, getting annoyed. Feliciano nodded. "Si, what do you mean, Mattie?"

Matthew sighed again. "What I _mean_ is that Lovino would be the perfect replacement for me."

He cringed as the other two immediately shouted their refusals.

"Dude, no way! You saw how he played before! He nearly broke my arm tackling me! Sorry Feli, dude, but it's true. Your brother is a menace on the pitch."

Feliciano nodded. "Si, Mattie, Al's right. I love Lovi, but he wasn't a very good player. Coach said that."

Matthew sighed again. "No, Feli. Lovino was actually a very good player. I expected you two to object though. But hear me out."

The two looked at him with disbelieving faces, but let him continue.

"From what you said, Feli, Lovino's first meeting with the counsellor went well, yes?"

Feliciano nodded. "Si, Toni said he expected him to yell way more and he didn't, but-"

Matthew cut him off. "So, as well as improving his studies, which from the sound of it he is working well towards, being a member of a club would be greatly beneficial. As well as the simple fact that being in an extra-curricular club of any sort is highly desired for your school record and CV, being part of a sports team in particular would be a great way for him to show his willingness to change. Think about it. Lovino has experience with soccer. Even coach Beilshmidt said he had no fault with his playing, it's simply his attitude. If we can convince the counsellor that being on the team again will help Lovino, I'm sure we can get him to talk to the coach for him. Just think about it." He stopped, breathing hard from speaking so much at once.

To their credit, Feliciano and Alfred did appear to be thinking about it. Eventually, Felicano spoke.

"I guess it could work. I didn't think Lovi would ever agree to the terms in the first place, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask him about it. I can get grandfather to talk to Toni, at least."

Matthew nodded. "Well, it was just a thought. Al?"

Alfred didn't look particularly happy about it, but he nodded. Sighing, he said "I guess it's Feli's choice, not mine. I doubt coach'll agree though."

"Agree to what, exactly?"

They all jumped. Ludwig stood in the doorway, one arm leaning on the jamb. He looked down at his watch.

"you three seem to have a habit of staying long after practice has finished. What is it that you want me to agree to?"

Matthew gulped nervously. The plan suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea now that Ludwig was in front of them.

To his surprise, it was Feliciano that answered.

"Mattie was wondering if Lovi could be his replacement while he's gone, coach" he chirped.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?" Feliciano nodded. "I seem to remember already dismissing him once. Now you want me to reinstate him as a player?" he turned to Matthew.

"May I ask why you want me to consider this?"

Matthew swallowed. "Well, um, I just thought." He twisted his hands together. He looked up at Ludwig, his face suddenly serious.

"I thought that it would be a good chance for Lovino to prove to the school that he is truly willing to change his behaviour. As a student having undergone a period of suspension, as well as having to attend sessions with a school counsellor, he is entitled to make up for his actions by taking part in extra-curricular activities. As he already has experience with soccer, I thought that this would be a good way for him to prove to the school that he is thinking for himself in terms of ways to improve his image as a student. I believe that if you were to attest to his skill and agree to this, then you could discuss it with both the headmaster and the counsellor. Of course, Lovino himself would have to agree to this." He stared up at Ludwig, forcing himself not to take a step back.

Ludwig considered the boys words. He raised a hand to his jaw, thinking. He opened his mouth to speak, and matthew flinched, waiting for the refusal Ludwig would surely give.

The reply shocked them all. "You're a very good speaker, Willliams."

Matthew looked up in surprise. "I- what?" Ludwig smiled softly. "You have a very good persuasive ability. You should think about going into law. I think you would be very good at it."

Matthew brightened at the praise. "Th-thank you, coach."

"However."

The three cringed again.

Ludwig's voice was stern. "You cannot make choices for another student without their knowledge or consent." They looked up at him. "That said, your argument is perfectly valid. I would have no problem with Lovino taking your place until you return, _provided_ , (they all leaned forward, unconsciously hanging on his words) you actually ask him. Do that, get his consent, then I will talk to the headmaster and counsellor on his behalf. I trust you can handle that, Vargas? He is your brother, after all."

Feliciano flushed deep red, straightening up. "Yes coach! Don't worry, I'll make Lovi say yes! You can count on me!"

Ludwig smiled tersely. "Well, good." He looked at the three. "Now, if you are all finished, I suggest you think about leaving. I'm sure you have people waiting for you."

"Yes coach!"

"good. See you both on Monday, Jones, Vargas. Williams, have a safe flight. I'm sure these two will keep you updated with the team. In the meantime, don't worry about the team. I'll see you when you get back. If you don't mind the saying, enjoy your trip."

Matthew nodded. "Thank you, coach Beilshmidt. I will."

"Right." For the second time, Ludwig turned and went back to his office. They heard him shut the door, and turned back.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, he didn't say no, right?" Feliciano said. They all laughed. Al shoved his shoulder, gently. "Now it's up to you to convince him. Good luck, dude!" they laughed again, collecting their bags and heading out.

They stopped at the school gate.

"Mattie, I forgot!" Feliciano yelled as he remembered something.

"hmm?"

"What time is your flight? I need to come see you off!"

Matthew relaxed. "Oh, I forgot to say, didn't I? it's a morning flight, so it leaves at 9. Don't worry if you can't make it, it's fine."

"No! I'll be there."

"ok". Matthew laughed. "Oh, dad's here. Gotta go. See ya tomorrow, Feli!" Alfred yelled. They walked over to their car, where Arthur was evidently listening to the radio, judging by the music coming out of the windows. "Eww, his music is totally lame." He heard Alfred joke to his brother, making Matthew laugh.

Feliciano smiled. He took out his phone to call home, seeing that he had a few missed calls from Roma, evidently wondering why he was late. He rang back, telling him he would walk home. He took his time, thinking. Now he just had to convince Lovino to agree to _another_ idea. Hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to a punch this time.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

In the end, it was not Feliciano who managed to convince him, but Matthew himself. After a solid hour of arguing, Feliciano finally seemed to realize that this was one argument he was not going to win, and had stormed off in a rather un-Feli-like (but typically Italian) huff. Roma had then stepped in to see what his granson's were making so much noise about, and, seeing Feliciano in tears and perilously close to giving his brother a bruise to match the former, suggested that perhaps Matthew should be the one to explain it instead.

That led them to where they were now, sitting in a café at the airport in as close to privacy as they could get. Matthew had, for once, asserted a modicum of authority over this brother and ordered him and Feli to leave them in peace. The two had wandered off, rather surprised at the soft-spoken Canadian's voice, but had complied. Matthew watched them go, then turned to Lovino.

"I really am glad you came, Lovi" he said quietly. Lovino simply huffed and crossed his arms.

"Well, my idiota of a brother was doing a terrible job of explaining, so Nonno dragged me here to hear it from you instead." Lovino tried to sound belligerent, frowning at Matthew as though annoyed.

Matthew simply looked at him softly. "Ok. Hear me out." He proceeded to relate his argument to Lovino, keeping his voice low and measured. Lovino, for his part, couldn't keep a look of disbelief from showing.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to join the soccer club again, despite the fact that that German bastard already kicked me out once, simply because you think it will 'look good on my record?"

Matthew nodded. "Lovino, listen to me. You need to realise that the school has already done a great deal to help you." Lovino rolled his eyes and looked away, feigning boredom. "They didn't have to offer you counselling, you know. They could have simply expelled you" he said flippantly.

 _That_ got his interest. Lovino whipped his head back to face Matthew, taken aback at the ferocity of the words. Matthew smirked. "That got you listening." His face turned serious. "But seriously. I understand that you don't want the counselling. But whether you like it or not, the school has decided that this is the best thing for you. And it seems like Mr Carriedo is really nice. If I had to see a counsellor, I wouldn't mind seeing someone like him."

 _Was it just his imagination, or did Lovino see a faint flush on Matthew's pale face?_

He continued. "Anyway. I'm not just saying this for the school's benefit, Lovi. I want you to do this as a personal favour."

Lovino frowned, confused. "What?"

Matthew took a quick glance around to make sure that the others were away, then leant in.

"I, um, haven't told anyone else this. It's, uh, the reason I'm leaving." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again, and Lovino had to lean forward to hear him.

"I got a call a couple of weeks ago. It was actually the same day you had the meeting, in fact. The call was from my father. My _real_ father." He relayed the story to Lovino, who looked uncomfortable. After a long moment, he decided to tell the truth.

"I know" he said shortly.

Matthew's head flew up in surprise. "HOW?!" he burst out. His face fell. "Did Feli tell you? I did ask him not to, but I suppose since you're his brother.."

Lovino looked down at his hands. He frowned, shaking his head. "No, it was actually that Saturday. After the meeting finished, nonno took us out to eat as a 'celebration'. I couldn't take it, so I went outside. There was this weird guy with white hair out on a smoke break. We started talking, and it turned out he was best friends with Antonio – uh, Mr Carriedo –

(Matthew raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment on why Lovino was on first name terms with the counsellor after only one session)

and another guy. He said this guy had moved to Canada and had a kid with a girl he met there, then abandoned him when she died and gone back to France. When he said the kid was adopted by his American aunt who had a kid the same age, I thought it sounded like you, so I asked what the kid's name was and he said Matthieu. So I knew it was you." He shrugged. "It turns out the guy is your coach's brother, so there's that too."

Matthew listened to this in silence, simply blinking in surprise. Then, to Lovino's confusion, he started laughing softly.

"Wow! It's true what they say then, after all! It really is a small world we live in."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's what Gil said."

Matthew smiled. "Well, it's true. Anyway. The point is, I'm going to be gone for at least a month, if not longer, and I want _you_ to take my place on the team for me."

Now it was Lovino's turn to look surprised. He had only thought that Matthew suggested he join the team as a substitute member, not actually replace him. He frowned again.

"But why me? You know I already got kicked off once. I'm not gonna be good enough to take your place" he said, his voice angrily confused.

Matthew shook his head. "You know that's not true. The problem with you before wasn't your playing, it was your inability to play with other people. But if you just give it a chance, I know you can do this. _Please_ , Lovino. You're a brilliant player if you try, I know you are. I don't trust anyone else to take my place. But if you do, I know we can win. I'm going to miss the play-offs, maybe even the championships. Play in my place, Lovi. Please."

Lovino looked at him doubtfully, torn. He knew that with Matthew leaving, he would lose one of his few, if not only friends. He wasn't particularly close with anyone else in his classes, since his attitude and language tended to drive away most people. But more than that, he knew that the reason his behaviour had spiralled out of control was his sheer contrast with his brother. Feliciano drifted through life with a smile and a happy-go-lucky attitude that couldn't help but draw others to him. His less-than-perfect grades were made up for in his simple enthusiasm for life itself, and could generally work his way out of trouble with nothing more than a smile and his infectious laugh. He was also a natural on the pitch. Lovino knew that his playing matched his brother's, but he couldn't stand the thought that this would be just another reason to be compared to him, and, like always, would only end up being brought short.

He shook his head. "I can't do it, Mattie. I'm not good enough. Feli will win, anyway. He bragged enough at home about being a 'star player', anyway." His voice was sour.

Matthew leaned back in his chair. "Who cares?" he said, uncharacteristically sharply. Lovino looked at him, frowning in confusion. Matthew looked at him.

"We've both spent our lives being compared to our brothers. I'd give anything to have the chance to outshine Al at something, just once. But it's never going to happen. I get perfect grades while he barely scrapes a pass, and all I get is a 'Well done' from the teachers and perhaps a nod from Arthur, when he even remembers I exist." He stared at Lovino.

"You have a chance, Lovi. Take my place and show them all what an amazing player you are. Win the play-offs for us, then we'll win the trophy when I get back. If it helps with your record, so much the better. But don't do it for the school, Lovi. Do it for me. And for you. Show them that they can't keep comparing us to someone else. Please?" Matthew sounded almost desperate.

Lovino thought about it. it was true that their shared grievance over being compared was one of the main reasons they had become friends, but Lovino couldn't believe the belief that Matthew seemed to have in him. His words had certainly struck a chord in him, however.

His face twisted in thought. He bit his lip, unsure. He looked over to Matthew, who was now looking down at his hands again.

"If you really think I can do it, then I'll try. But don't think it's because of you, you jerk."

Matthew's face broke out into a grin. "Thank you, Lovi. I mean it." He looked down at his watch and laughed, a little shakily. "It's getting late. I guess we'd better go and tell the others, eh?"

Lovino tried to look annoyed. "You tell them" he muttered, halfheartedly angrily. Matthew smiled again.

"Guys! Over here!" he called unsuccessfully trying to catch their attention. "Oh, never mind. Come on, Lovi." He grabbed his suitcase and bag and walked over to where the other two were.

Feliciano and Alfred were admiring a display of what looked like incredibly expensive watches, thankfully encased in glass. They didn't appear to hear the others approach, as Alfred loudly exclaimed

"I'm so gonna get this one. Isn't it cool?"

Matthew and Lovino shared a glance. "Yes, if you ever have the sudden need to tell the phase of the moon while three meters underwater" he said.

Alfred jumped and turned around. "Jeez, Mattie! You could'a said you were here! You almost gave me a heart attack!" he whined. Matthew arched an eyebrow. "No, if you ever enter cardiac arrest it will be due to the frankly disgusting amount of hamburgers you get through on a daily basis. Anyway, Lovi and I have finished talking and I think my flight is boarding soon, so let's go."

Alfred looked vaguely hurt at his brothers' comment, muttering "but burgers are the best, Mattie", but followed him anyway.

Matthew had managed to forget his nerves while talking to Lovino, but now that his departure was drawing closer the anxiety returned in full blast. He swallowed harshly and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He looked up at the board. Just as his eyes found the details he was looking for, a robotic voice sounded over the tannot, announcing his flight was now boarding.

He gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter. The four of them walked in relative silence to the boarding lounge. He turned to the others.

"I guess this is it then." He tried to smile, not quite succeeding.

Feliciano was the first to speak. He threw himself at Matthew and hugged his tightly. "I'm gonna miss you, Mattie! Call us all the time, si? The team's gonna miss you and you're gonna miss it all and it's not fair!" A tear ran down his face when he broke away, and Lovino dragged him back roughly.

"Let him breath, you idiot. And the team's gonna be fine." He looked at Matthew, and his mouth twisted. Matthew nodded at him, his face serious. He stepped forward and hugged Lovino, who stiffened, then relaxed.

"Win for me" Matthew whispered. Lovino blinked away a tear, surprising them both by hugging Matthew just as deeply. The two broke apart.

"I really will miss you, Lovino. Tell me how it all goes, ok?" Matthew asked. He tried to smile again. Lovino frowned and looked away, a slight flush on his face. "Yeah, whatever" he muttered. "I'll miss you too, maple jerk." Matthew's mouth quirked in a smile.

The brothers stood back to allow Matthew and Alfred to say their goodbyes. "We'll, um, leave you to it. Grandpa's probably waiting for us anyway. We'll see you when you get back, ok?" Feliciano said, displaying a remarkable level of tact. Matthew smiled thinly in thanks. "Thank you. I'll let everyone know when I'm there, and I hope you'll tell me about the team. And Lovi?"

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Just, think about it, ok?" was all Matthew said. Lovino frowned, but didn't reply. The two walked off, Feliciano waving madly until Lovino grabbed his arm and spun him around forcefully.

"Lovi? What did Mattie mean just then? Think about what?" Feliciano pestered his brother. Lovino scowled. "It doesn't matter" he said. Feliciano pouted. "It does matter." His face lit up. "Did he make you agree? He did, didn't he! This is great! Now we're not gonna be down any players! We can win! Oh, coach is gonna be really glad. And Toni! Oh! We can tell Grandpa too, right? Then he can tell Toni this evening and he can sort it all out!"

Lovino tuned out his little brother's prattle, knowing it was simply an attempt to divert his mind from the sadness of Matthew leaving. Feliciano had a tendency to get emotional far too easily, and tended to chatter when he was nervous or trying to cheer himself up.

Lovino, for his part, was trying not to think of Matthew's words. Just like before, he was torn between wanting to believe in his friend and his usual disbelief that the other had meant what he said. Matthew clearly had enough faith in Lovino to think that he could do it, but what if he let him down? He already had so much to contend with his classwork and sessions with Antonio, what if he failed Matthew? Even worse, what if he did join the team, and in the unlikely event that they did win, what then? Matthew would come back in a month or so, and Lovino would presumably have to relinquish his place. Even if he was able to stay on the team, it would likely only be as a substitute, and things would go back to the same as they were before.

His mind turned it over and over. They walked out of the airport and towards the car lot, where Roma was waiting for them. He got in the car, still ignoring Feliciano's chatter, and sat lost in his thoughts as they made their way home.

Meanwhile, back at the airport, Matthew and Alfred were trying to say their own goodbyes. Matthew swallowed, suddenly aware that this was it.

Before he could say anything, Alfred lunged forward and caught his brother in a bone-crushing hug. His voice was muffled against Matthew's hair.

"I'm gonna miss you, bro."

Matthew hugged him tightly, blinking back tears. He hid his face in Alfred's shoulder, desperately trying not to cry. He couldn't entirely hide his trembling shoulders, though, making Alfred draw back in alarm.

"Mattie?! Dude, don't cry! It's only a month! And you'll be in Paris, right? With, like, the noting damn, or whatever. And the iffy tower."

Matthew couldn't help laughing, if a little shakily, at his brother's typical mangling of the words.

"Notre Dame, Al. And it's the Eiffel Tower. But I'm not actually staying in Paris. It's about an hour outside the city, apparently."

"Oh." Alfred's face fell, then brightened. "But you could visit it, right? I want to see a picture of it. Like, where you pretend to push it over, and stuff?"

"I'm sure we'll visit it at some point. Although it's usually the leaning tower of Pisa that you pretend to push." Matthew smiled.

Alfred beamed. "Oh, good. You'll bring me back one, right? Like, a little one. And, uh. Well, I don't really know what else, but something cool, ok?"

His brother smiled again. "Yes, I'll bring souvenirs. For everyone." Alfred looked at him dubiously. "Everyone? Even Dad? 'Cause he kinda doesn't like France, for some reason. No idea why, though. He's funny like that."

Matthew's mouth twisted at the mention of Arthur. Since finding out that he was not Arthur's son, even by marriage, had strained things between them slightly. Add in Arthur's irrational (although very English) dislike of the French in general, and they had made for a rather difficult parting. "I'll see." Was all he replied.

He was saved from having to say anything else by the arrival of their mother, Amelia.

Now that he knew it was there, Matthew could see the differences between them. His hair was more golden than straw-coloured, his eyes a light violet as opposed to Alfred's bright blue, and his build, although tall, was slighter, thinner. All in all, the differences were slight, but glaringly noticeable now that he was aware of it. His expression must have shown, because Amelia immediately drew him into an embrace.

"You're my son, Matthew. That man may be your father, but you will _always_ have a home here. Remember that. I love you so much. Maddie would be so proud of you."

Matthew tightened his hold on her, again unable to hide the tears running down his cheeks.

An announcement came on over the tannoy, signalling that his flight now had ten minutes left before boarding closed. Amelia let go of him, drawing back slowly. She wiped away a tear of her own.

"Ok, darling. Have you got everything? Boarding pass, carry-on? Everything you need? Headphones, remember you can't have your data on, face mask, pressure socks, tablets'

"I'm fine, mom. Really."

Amelia stopped, smiling at her son. She had been so terrified that he would stop calling her his mother, afraid that he would see it as a betrayal after hiding it for so many years. She hugged him again, kissing his cheek as she released him.

"Ok, then. Now, remember to ring when you get there, ok? I don't care what that man says, you ring _immediately._ And I want regular updates. Don't let him pressure you into anything. If he does anything you don't like, you call and come home as soon as you can, alright? I wouldn't put it past him, suddenly barging into your life like this, the cheek'

"MOM, chill." Alfred interjected. He looked startled.

Amelia cut her tirade, coughing politely. "I'm so sorry, Matthew. Of course your father has a right to see you, especially at a time like this. Give my regards to your grandmother, alright? She's such a sweet woman."

Matthew nodded. "I will, mom." He looked behind him, seeing the line gradually thin behind him. "I have to go now. I love you."

"I love you too, honey. Now go, quickly, before I cry." She hugged him briefly, then turned and hid her face in Alfred's shoulder. He put his arms around her automatically.

"I'll miss you, bro."

Matthew picked his bag up and swung it onto his shoulder, then grabbed the handle of his suitcase. He turned back and smiled at his brother.

"I'll miss you too, Al. I'll call as soon as I can. Try not to let Lovi get too mad, ok? He really will be an amazing player if he only sees it." He tilted his head slightly, making his blond waves fall over his face.

"Win for me, ok bro?"

Alfred nodded, his face set. "We will. I promise."

Matthew smiled. "Good. I'll see you in a month then." He set his shoulders and walked forward to the desk. He went through the boarding process, then walked out to the shuttle corridor. He found his seat on the plane and set his suitcase on the shelf, then arranged his carry-on within easy reach.

He nodded a greeting to his fellow passenger, a tall man with dreadlocks and an easy-going expression, then sat through the usual warning safety video. Once they were up in the air, he took out his phone and put some music on, settling in for the flight. He tried not to think about the others left behind, wondering with a mixture of trepidation and excitement what the next month would bring.

 **Authors Note**

This is the point to stop reading if you don't like CaMano (is that their ship name? I've never seen it any other way, so that's what I'm calling it).

Hope you enjoy, and please consider reviewing if you want to, it really does help. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The warning light went off, signalling that they could remove their seatbelts and move around. Matthew looked out of the window, watching as the plane gained height. Soon, he could no longer see the ground, covered by fluffy white clouds that seemed to hang in the air, unmoving.

A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Don't like flying?" his seatmate asked.

Matthew smiled tersely at him. "Not really. This is my first time on a plane by myself" he admitted.

The man grinned at him, flashing perfectly white teeth against his dark skin.

"That's cool. Where you going?" he asked.

Matthew realised the attempt to distract him, and welcomed it. "I'm visiting relatives" he replied.

The man seemed to pick up on the hesitance in his voice, and raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Not on good terms with the folks, huh?"

"No. I've actually never met them." Matthew found himself relaxing. It felt strangely good to tell a complete stranger his story.

"Whew. Sounds rough" the guy said. "I'm Carlos, by the way." He extended a hand. Matthew shook it. "Matthew."

With the introductions over, they began chatting. Matthew discovered that Carlos was from Cuba, going to France for some sight-seeing after having graduated college early. He had studied photography, and hoping to get some good images of French architecture for a blog he ran. When Matthew admitted that this would be his first time in France, Carlos offered to show him around, saying that he been before and knew the good tourist spots. Matthew accepted gratefully, amazed that he had managed to strike up a conversation so easily.

When the warning light came on again, the two stopped chatting for a brief moment while they sorted their luggage and seat belts. The landing was gentle, luckily, and it wasn't long before Carlos was helping him lift his bag down from the overhead shelf. The two walked towards the arrivals together, waiting for their suitcases on the carousel.

"Well, I guess this is it. Thank you very much for all your help" Matthew said.

"It's cool. Hit me up when you're in town, ok?" Carlos grinned at him. The two exchanged goodbyes, Carlos saying that he had sorted his hotel already and apologised for having to rush to check in. Matthew smiled back, waving at him. He looked around the airport. Amelia had shown him a picture of Francis, so he knew who he was looking for. The problem was, his father appeared to be nowhere in sight.

Matthew clutched the handle of his suitcase tighter, trying to hold back a rising sense of panic. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, and followed the signs to the help desk.

He didn't get very far, however.

"Mattieu! Mattieu!"

He spun round, anxiety and relief flooding through him. He stopped dead as he saw the man who must be his father running towards him. His mind went blank, his view shrinking to the man coming towards him. His brain ran a thousand miles a second, automatically taking in the sight, the similarities between them.

Francis drew to a halt a few feet away from Matthew. One hand rose to cover his mouth, a hint of tears coming to his eyes. Matthew simply stood where he was, frozen. They stared at each other in silence, drinking in the sight of each other's faces.

The same golden hair, slightly longer than his own. Bright blue eyes, creased with worry and apology. Smartly dressed, looking far younger than his years, and very fashionable. Matthew suddenly felt very nervous, in his plain, worn jeans, chosen for comfort, and his favourite red chequered shirt worn over a simple t-shirt. His glasses hung on the bridge of his nose, and the laces of one of his scruffy converse were frayed. He looked down, biting his lip with nerves.

"Matthieu?" He looked up tentatively at the sound of his name again. Francis reached out a hand to him, as though scared to touch him. Matthew simply stood still, unsure. After a long moment, his instinctive politeness kicked in. He reached out his hand and shook Francis'. His father looked vaguely confused by the gesture, then, surprisingly, laughed.

The tension between them dissolved, and Matthew smiled tentatively. Francis reached out again, this time gesturing to Matthew's suitcase. Matthew let go, allowing his father to take it.

They walked across the airport in silence, both wanting the other to speak first. Francis led his son to a corner of a café, in a remarkable similarity to his conversation with Lovino, just a few hours ago. He was startled out of his thoughts by his father suddenly breaking the silence.

"So. Um, oh goodness, I really do not know where to start. Matthieu, I am so, so, terribly sorry for everything I have done. I do not expect you to ever forgive me, but please, please give me a chance to explain."

Matthew blinked in surprise. He nodded, not quite trusting his voice enough to reply. Francis coughed, clearing his throught.

"Alright. I shall start from the beginning." His voice wasn't as accented as Matthew expected, perhaps from his time spent abroad. Or perhaps he was making an effort for him, as Amelia had warned him during the only time she relented enough to speak to him over the phone that his son had not learnt his father's language. Francis continued.

"I first met Madeline, your mother, in college. We were both studying in the same university, although not on the same course. She was a literature student' (well, that explained Matthew's love of reading, then) 'while I was studying French. I had chosen to study abroad to widen my horizons, and Canada had seemed the best place for that. It was close enough to France that I would not feel too homesick, yet still had the excitement of being a foreign country.

We became close. I helped her with her language studies, she helped me with the English parts of my course. We fell in love, as you would expect. We married when we finished college, and you were born a year after. We had everything. A beautiful house, a wonderful marriage, and of course you. Our perfect, darling little boy."

His voice halted. Matthew blinked away a tear, imagining it in his head. His mother, young and pretty and full of life. Francis as he would have been then, tall and strong, the two living in a world of bliss and happiness.

"Then it happened. It was a complete accident, they said. It was early winter. It gets cold so quickly there, you see. She was walking along the street, and a truck lost control on the ice. They told me afterwards that she had likely died (his voice stuttered slightly, but he carried on) on impact, and did not suffer. You were barely a year old. You had been with me the whole day. She had only gone out to get some groceries. She said she wanted some fresh air after being inside all day. She was only supposed to be out for a few minutes." His voice trailed off. He looked around, then turned back to Matthew, as if seeking reassurance to continue. Matthew swallowed hard, but nodded.

Francis looked down at his hands, unable to face his son.

"I will never forgive myself for what I allowed to happen. My only excuse was grief. Like so many, I found it so difficult to cope without her, and make sure you were alright. There were days, I think, that I did not eat, or sleep, or do anything. But you I made sure did not suffer. Please, Mattieu. You have to believe me. I made sure that you never knew what was wrong, never suffered for a moment. I- I could never have lived with myself if I had allowed anything to happen to you, even for a moment." He was staring at Matthew now, his eyes burning with intensity.

Matthew simply looked back at him, not knowing how to respond. Francis seemed satisfied, however, and kept speaking. He took a deep breath.

"It was perhaps half a year later that everything…fell apart. I do not quite know what happened, only that I realised at some point that I could not carry on. I had lost contact with many people, I had left my job to look after you, and I knew that I simply could not cope anymore. You looked so much like her, and every day I awoke to you lying in your crib, oblivious. I began to think that it was my fault, that I was being punished. I had' again a pause, and he blinked the moisture from his eyes- ' I had lived a life I was not proud of when I was younger. Meeting your mother felt like I had been saved – a cliché, I know' he said, with a self-deprecating shrug , 'and when you were born, it was like I was forgiven. Losing her felt like a punishment of the worst kind, like my happiness had been suddenly stolen away from me. I convinced myself that it was my fault, that I did not deserve to grieve, and worse, that I did not deserve _you_.

I think some part of me realised that I could not go on like this. Please, Mattieu, please believe that I did what I truly thought was best at the time. I truly did believe that I did not deserve you, that you deserved so much better than a father like me, and so I made my plan. I asked your aunt to take you for a few days. I made up a story about going back to work and needing a few days to sort everything out. So I filled a suitcase with your clothes, another with your toys, and brought you to your aunt's. She had a son of her own, a little boy the same age as you – his name is Alfred, is it not?- and I thought that it was perfect. Not only would you grow up loved and cared for in a way I could not bring myself to do, but you would not be alone.

That night, I locked myself in my room. I had ordered a ticket back to France, to depart as soon as I could. I did not give myself time to think, for I knew that if I did, I would regret everything. So I did not stop until I had packed a bag with nothing but a change of clothes and some money, and I left.

My family were very angry when I arrived home, alone. My mother was the only one who seemed to understand. After a while, they gave me the space I needed. I do think that this was the best thing I could have done. During the next few years, I struggled between desperately wanting to go and take you back and beg for your forgiveness, and knowing that you were in the best place, far happier than you would have been with me. My mother called me a fool, many times, but she was firm that I should not contact you until you were old enough to know, and hopefully understand, the truth." Now his voice caught again, and he steadied himself before continuing. Matthew felt matching tears rise to his own eyes.

"She first fell ill a few month ago. We thought it nothing more than an aggravated cold; she is not young, and these things can take a while to recover. As the weeks passed and she did not return to health, we knew that there was something wrong. We did not want to suspect the worst, however."

Matthew hung on his fathers' words. He knew what was coming next, but it did not make it easier to hear.

Francis tried to keep his voice steady. "She has pneumonia. It will not be long, the doctor says. So she has asked me to bring you to her, and tell you everything. That I have done. I can only beg for your forgiveness. If you would allow it, I would very much love if you would agree to meet her. You have a whole family here, Mattieu, and they would very much like to meet you. They would like to be a part of your life, if you would let them. As would I. I know I do not have the right, but I beg you. Please try to let me begin to make amends. I will do whatever you ask. Just, if you would, even if you decide you do not want me in your life, I would beg the selfishness to ask you to please meet your grandmother, just once. That is all I have to say. Whatever I have done if the past, I have never stopped loving you, Mattieu, and I would be honoured if you would let me show it."

Matthew sat in silence, letting his father's speech sink into his mind. He pursed his lips, thinking. The first thought to enter his mind, rather irrationally, was that the whole story was exactly the type of thing that arts and film festivals would adore.

 _Cannes would love this_. He bit back a laugh, knowing the thought was simply due to the excess of emotion swirling inside him.

That aside, on a serious note, the one thing he was certain of was that he did not hate Francis. The man clearly had a flair for the dramatic, but it must have been very difficult for his father to do this, and Matthew owed it to him to at least give him the chance to do what he asked.

He looked at Francis. His father was biting his lip in worry, looking far younger than his 37 years. He opened his mouth.

"I am sorry, Mattieu, I know I can never-'

"I forgive you" he stated quietly.

"I only- Pardon?" Francis stared at Matthew in surprise.

"I forgive you" he repeated. He stared back at his father. "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. Grief does strange things to people, and I know that you couldn't possibly have been thinking straight. Whatever reason you did it for, I grew up with a loving mother and brother in a wonderful family, and I am very grateful for that." He paused, not liking his next words, but knowing it had to be said. He tried to phrase it in the politest way he could.

"It wasn't easy to learn that everything I knew was…different to what I believed, but I do not blame you for it. I understand. I'm actually glad that everyone kept it from me. I don't think that I would have understood if I had been told when I was younger. Keeping it from me allowed to grow up with Al as my brother and Amelia as my mother. We were very happy. We still are." He tried to smile.

"I won't lie, it's a lot to take in to find out that I have a whole new family that I've never met. But of course I will meet them. All of them. And" he stopped, suddenly feeling shy. Francis leaned forward unconsciously, hanging on his son's words.

"And I would very much like to get to know you, if you want to" he said.

"Yes! Yes, Mattieu." He nodded frantically, thanking Matthew over and over again in a mixture of English and French. His eyes filled with tears, and he hid his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Matthew jumped back in his seat, not sure whether to comfort his father or not. He reached out a hand, then withdrew it.

As if sensing his son's distress, Francis lowered his hands, wiping away his tears with long, delicate fingers. He smiled at Matthew, his face lined with relief. He regained his composure.

"You have made me very happy, Mattieu. I cannot thank you enough." He pushed a hand through his long hair, then stood up suddenly. He reached out his hand.

"Would you like to go home? Everyone is very excited to meet you."

Matthew smiled tentatively, accepting his father's hand and standing up. At once, Francis drew him into a fierce hug. Matthew stiffened, then relaxed into his father's embrace, feeling somehow safe, _complete_ , in the feel of the strong arms around him. Francis was taller than him, he realised in slight shock. It felt good to have someone taller than him for once, and he leaned into the embrace. He felt tears spring to his eyes.

Francis drew back in worry. "Mattieu? Oh, mon petit, please don't cry. Please. I am sorry, I should not have dared, I was too forward'

"-Its fine" Matthew cut him off, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. "I'm happy, its happy tears." He took a deep breath and smiled brightly at Francis.

"If it's ok, could we go now, please? I would like to see the house. Mo-Amelia showed me some pictures, it looks wonderful."

Francis beamed. "Oui, it is a beautiful house." His face turned nostalgic, and sad. "But please do not force yourself. I understand that for you, Amelia will always be your mother, and you should not stop calling her that for me."

Matthew bit his lip, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Francis answered for him.

"Call me whatever feels right for you. I do not expect that you will call me Father; I have not earned that right. You can call me whatever you are most comfortable with."

Matthew frowned. "What did I call you before?"

Francis blinked in surprise. "Well, uh, you had only just begun to talk. But you called me papa." His face lit up with the memory.

"Papa." Matthew tried it out. "It's Pére in French, isn't it?"

Francis looked surprised, but nodded. "Oui, Pére is the formal. Papa is more, close, I suppose you would say."

Matthew thought about it. He didn't quite feel ready to call Francis father, and he felt a little old to be saying papa, but on the other hand he would feel uncomfortable calling him by his name. A thought occurred to him.

"Can I call you Dad?" he eventually asked.

Francis tilted his head in confusion. "Of course, Mattieu, but is that not what you call your father at home?"

Matthew shook his head. "No. Well, I do, but.-" He sighed. "Mom and dad – uh, Allen, got divorced when Al and I were little. She remarried when we were almost seven. Al calls Arthur dad, but I never really felt comfortable with it. I guess maybe I subconsciously knew that neither Allen or Arthur are my real father. So, it just seems, uh, right, somehow."

Francis nodded. "I am very glad, Matthieu. Of course, you can call me whatever you wish. 'Dad' will take a little getting used to, I will admit, but it is the least I can do." He frowned, his face taking on a vaguely sad look.

"On that note, what do you want me to call you? I don't suppose you would like me to use a pet or family name. Perhaps what your friends call you at school? he asked.

Matthew shook his head again. "No. I get called Matt, or Mattie, and I don't really like it."

"Is Mattieu alright then? That is how we tend to say it at home, and what everyone is used to. Would that be alright?"

Matthew nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I like the way you say it. It sounds nice, somehow."

Francis smiled softly at his son. "The memories of childhood, however brief, can be surprisingly strong, _non_?

Matthew smiled and nodded. "Is that what it is?"

"I would very much like to think so. Now, are you ready to go? It will be about an hours drive."

Matthew nodded again.

"Tré bien. Come on, then." Once they had cleared customs and had his passport checked, Matthew followed him out of the airport, blinking slightly at the afternoon sun.

Francis led him through the car park, stopping at a small, shiny red sports car. Matthew's eyes widened in appreciation. Francis laughed nervously.

"She is a beauty, _non_? I admit, she is one of my few treasures. P lease-"he held the door out for Matthew, placing his luggage in the small boot. Matthew was surprised there was even room for storage, but it was only a two-seater. He ran a hand over the soft leather of the seats, sinking in to it.

If he was honest with himself, this was something he could definitely get used to.

Francis drove in relative silence. He spoke occasionally to point things out to Matthew, who dutifully noted everything down. He stared out of the car's window, fascinated by the scenery. The tall buildings and outline of the city was soon replaced by avenues of trees and long, winding roads. It was utterly different from anything Matthew had seen before, both in America and England, but he drank the sight in.

And then Francis turned down a small, barely noticeable path, and Matthew saw the house distantly.

The road was long, and perfectly straight. Despite its look, the small sports car navigated the dirt track with ease, the road made smooth by the two grooves dug deep on either side of a raised grassy strip along the middle. The avenue was lined with trees, poplars maybe, shading them from the lazy afternoon sun. He could see trees stretching out on either side, and guessed that it was probably an orchard of some sort. Francis seemed to both stiffen and relax as they neared the house, and Matthew felt the nerves rising again in his stomach. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting.

Francis seemed to understand, and drew the car to a halt expertly in the drive. Taking Matthew's luggage out, he set it on the ground, then opened the door. Matthew got out, his eyes still closed, and stood up. Francis set his hands over Matthew's eyes, then turned him to face the house.

"Ok. You can look now, mon cheri."

Matthew looked, and gasped softly.

It was old, that much was certain. Made of a faded beige brick, it stood several stories tall, framed perfectly by the trees surrounding it. The elegant sweep of the gravel drive ran right up to the entrance, with a set of stone steps leading up to the heavy wooden door. The windows, tall and thin, were covered with wooden shutters, closed to keep out the lazy summer heat. All in all, it looked old, and elegant, and utterly beautiful. But most of all, it looked like a _home_.

Francis looked to Matthew, and saw his son staring in wonder.

"Do you like it?" he asked, almost afraid.

Matthew nodded absently. "It looks wonderful" he murmured. He took a step forward, unconsciously.

Francis beamed. "Are you ready?" he asked again.

Matthew turned to face his father, and nodded. "Yes." He hefted his backpack on his shoulder, took hold of his bag, and followed his father into the house.

Author's note

First off, thank you very much for reading! This is almost the longest piece I've written (ten chapters is the longest I've managed to keep a coherent plot going, so this will soon surpass that!) and I'm quite proud of how it turned out. I do not have any experience with Matthew's situation, however, so if anything is inaccurate please tell me and I'll do my best to make it more realistic.

On a side note, the scene where they ask what they should call each other is not technically mine. I've taken liberties with one of my absolute favourite children's classics. If anyone knows what it is, which I seriously doubt, I hope it isn't too out of character. I just thought it sounded familiar when I wrote it and decided to add it in.

Thank you for reading, and please consider leaving a review if you liked it. Until next time!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapters

Matthew felt at home in France in a way he never truly had before. Perhaps it was the warmth, the acceptance he had found from everyone. Once the introductions had been made, he had been ushered to his room by Francis, who had insisted on giving him a full tour of the house.

He had been fascinated by it all, listening to his father as he listed each room and the history of it. Hearing the exuberance and nostalgia in Francis' voice giving life to the house brought a faint smile to Matthew's face. However their relationship developed, the house itself was beautiful, and if nothing else he would not regret coming here.

Francis seemed to notice his son's distraction, and stopped talking.

"Matthieu? I am sorry, would you like me to stop? You must be tired, _non_?"

Matthew shook his head. "Oh, no, sorry. I mean, yes, I am a bit tired, but please don't stop." He looked around at the small corridor they were standing in. "It's very beautiful. I, uh, I like it. Very much."

Francis beamed. "That is wonderful to hear, _mon petit_. But you are tired. We will stop for now. You go and rest, and I will come for you when it is time for dinner, _oui_ "?

"Ok. Thank you." Matthew considered calling him 'dad', but decided against it.

Francis led him back to his room, leaving him to unpack, saying that he would be outside if he wanted him.

Matthew unpacked quickly, placing his clothes in the ornate wooden wardrobe and chest of drawers. The room itself was quite simple, with a bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers and small bedside table. The dresser had a large basin and pitcher set in a large bowl, presumably for washing his face. And shaving, but, he mused, he wasn't quite old enough for that to be needed yet. Still, it was a nice gesture, and just another quirk that added to the feeling of being included, wanted.

Finished with unpacking, he paced over to the small window and opened it. pushing the shutters to the side, he leant out, breathing in the warm summer air. His gaze drifted to the garden, and he blinked in surprise.

A girl stood on the grass, barefoot. She had long black hair tied back in loose bunches with red ribbons, and wore a pretty blue skater dress that flowed out around her knees. She caught his gaze and waved up at him.

"Hello! You must be the new cousin, _oui_? I'm Michelle!" she called up to him.

Matthew flushed and retreated slightly. Michelle laughed. "Are you shy?" she giggled. "Wait a minute then."

She ran towards the house. After a minute, Matthew heard her footsteps coming towards him. She stopped outside his room, breathless, then straightened up. She stuck her hand out.

"Michelle. Francis told me you don't speak French, so I should speak English. Don't worry, I'll translate for Grandmamma and Grandpapa, they refuse to speak it. Well, they might take an exception with you, but its quicker if I translate. Hi."

Matthew shook her hand, a little shocked at the flurry of words. Michelle didn't seem to mind, however, and continued gabbling.

"So I guess Francis didn't tell you about me, huh? Doesn't matter, he knew I'd be here anyway. He asked me to keep an eye on you cause I'm your age – you're seventeen, right, same as me?- so he thought should show you around and stuff. He's already given you a tour of the house, so do you want to go and see the gardens? It's beautiful right around now."

Matthew's eyes lit up. "Um, yes please. And I'm Matthew."

Michelle blushed gracefully. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm gabbling again, aren't I? Grandmamma is always telling me to stop. Just tell me if I need to slow down, alright?"

"No, it's ok. I'm used to it." Matthew stopped himself from saying anything further, but Michelle tilted her head questioningly. He relented.

"My broth-er, cousin, Alfred. He's a bit like you. I don't mean that badly! Uh, he just, talks quickly. But he's very loud. And arrogant. So not very much like you." He stammered, blushing faintly. Michelle giggled again.

"It must be nice, huh?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What?" he asked.

"Having a brother, silly. You can say that, no-one will mind. There's so many cousins and relatives here anyway that no-one really cares who's related to who. Pretty much everyone knows about you anyway, so they won't judge you" Michelle answered.

"Oh." Matthew wasn't sure how to react to that. On one hand, he was sort of glad that he wouldn't have to explain his situation over and over, but part of him still wanted to keep it secret. In the end, he supposed that Michelle was right. They _were_ all family, so it didn't really matter. He did wonder one thing, though.

"So, uh, how are we…?" he trailed off. Michelle caught his drift though.

"OH! Sorry, I'm being rude again. We aren't actually related. Grandmamma adopted me when I was little. I'm from the Seychelles originally. My parents emigrated here before I was born. They died when I was three, and since mama and grandmamma were close friends, she took me in. So I'm sort of your cousin, but not really" she stated.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry" Matthew answered guiltily.

"N-mm. It's fine" she replied. "I don't really remember them. Besides, grandmamma and everyone are so lovely, and there's everyone else, so it's great here. And now you're here too!" she grinned at him, and Matthew smiled back. She grabbed his hand.

"Now let's go see the garden!" And with that, she dragged him out the room.

The two spent the next few hours going through the grounds of the house. Michelle pointed out the various flowers and trees, each with the corresponding Latin name. when Matthew remarked on it, she grinned and said that she had always loved flowers, and intended to study horticulture when she finished high school. she showed him the orchards, as well as the vineyards, where rows and rows of plants were laid out neatly.

"We do make our own wine, but Grandmamma doesn't let us drink it. It's too strong, she says. We sell it in the local market, tourists love it" she stated offhandedly,

and then took him to the crowning jewel.

A small lake, barely half a mile from the house. Not large, less than a few hundred yards across and perhaps half that wide, but enough. Matthew couldn't help a gasp of appreciation. In the centre, there was even a tiny island, barely large enough for a small tree and some bushes, but still recognisably an island.

"Cool, huh?" Michelle said.

Matthew could only nod in amazement. _Just what kind of family is this?_ he thought. Knowing next to nothing about Francis, he was amazed at everything he had seen so far. If the house itself wasn't enough, the garden and now this showed him that this was very different from everything he was used to. He blinked back a tear, turning away so Michelle couldn't see him.

"Matthew?" Michelle rubbed a comforting hand on his back. Turning to face the lake, she spoke softly.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it? I don't remember much of my parents, or where we lived before, but I remember that this was not it. When I came here for the first time, I thought it must be a castle, and I was a princess. Now, I realise that this really isn't so different from any other house, but when you are not brought up in it, it seems very different. Its all a bit much, yes?"

Matthew turned to face her, his face caught between a smile and crying. He laughed shakily.

"Yeah, that's it all right." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Michelle smiled. "We really aren't rich, if that's what you think. This is all old money. Grandpapa got the house on sale from the previous owner, and it took years to restore it. He and Grandmamma bought it when they were very young, our age I think, so it isn't a family home. The grounds came with it only because the man who owned it didn't want to look after it any more, so he sold it to Grandpapa. Then when they had children it became a sort of family project, and it took years to make it like it is now. The island I think was always like that. We can swim to it if you want!" she beamed, making Matthew laugh.

"Eh, no, it's ok. Maybe later." He looked at her. "But thank you. That does make me feel better" he said.

Michelle shot him a sly glance. "What, were you thinking we were all aged aristocrats lying on pots of gold and hoarding our money from centuries ago, and you were the commoner thrust into being the heir of an unknown fortune?"

Matthew blushed. "Well, no, I- eh, what? Heir?" His face took on a slightly horrified look.

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "Of course! Francis is Grandmamma and Grandpapa's only son, and you are his, so you are the heir after him. All the cousins are their nephews and nieces, and then great-nephews and nieces, so they aren't the first in line. You are. You and me. But I'm not their child, so it doesn't count."

Matthew took a step back in shock. It was one thing to find out that he had an entire family that he didn't know about, but to _inherit_ it all! That would take a lot of getting used to. Suddenly a lot of things slotted into place. That was why Francis had contacted him now, out of the blue. Giving him time to meet his family, his grandmother, before she passed away. If not, he would have had a far bigger shock getting a letter, or even worse, a phone call, from some French lawyer saying that by the way, here is your father, who you haven't met and didn't know about, who has now inherited a family chateau and can you fly over, the funeral is on Tuesday and the will is to be read shortly after?

"Matthew? Are you all right? I'm sorry, should I not have told you? I thought Francis had said, I'm so sorry." Michelle twisted her hands in worry, her bare feet curling into the sand.

He shook his head. "No, it's ok. That's just a bit of a shock. But if Fra- eh, dad, is their son, then I'm not the heir. Not for a long time, at least" he mused.

Michelle blinked. "I suppose." She looked confused. "Do you not want it?" she asked worriedly.

"It's just a lot to take in, that's all" Matthew replied.

"Ok. Do you want to go back? It's getting late, it's probably nearly dinner time anyway" she said. Matthew nodded. "Yeah, dad said he would come and find me."

Michelle giggled. "We better go then! Francis gets het up way to easily. Lets go!" she declared.

They made their way back to the house. Luckily, Francis came out onto the terrace just as they emerged from the trees.

"Oh, Mattieu! You had me worried! I went up to your room and you were gone! Where were you?" he asked worriedly.

"It's ok, uncle Francis. He was with me the whole time. I took him around the garden and the lake" Michelle answered.

"Oh." Francis blinked in surprise. He and Michelle had a rather strained relationship. As much as he liked the girl, treating her as his daughter (sister would be too strange, with the more than twenty year age difference) only reminded him of the son he had abandoned. Instead, he tended to either avoid her, or, when he did remember her, showered her with gifts, much to his mother's consternation.

"Well, in any case, dinner will be served soon. Michelle, to the house, please" he said.

Michelle hurried forward, leaving Matthew and Francis standing together. There was a moment of awkward silence until Francis asked quietly "so what did you think of the gardens, Matthieu?"

The blond looked up at his father and smiled. "I, uh, it's really great. And huge. But its cool. Michelle was saying she wants to study horticulture and take care of it all." His face fell slightly, and he coughed in nervousness.

"She, uh, she also said something else. About, um, us. As a family, I mean."

Francis looked down at Matthew in trepidation. "Oh?"

Matthew swallowed. "She said this will all go to you. When, uh, well, after, uh…." His voice trailed off. Francis sighed.

"Oui. I am the sole inheritor of the estate when maman and pére are gone, that is true. And as my son, you will be my heir. Whether you choose to accept it is up to you, of course" he said, with a light laugh of nerves.

Matthew looked away and frowned. "What about Michelle?" he whispered. Francis' face twisted. "I have…made provisions for her, you would say. Of course, if you want, I can change that."

"No! eh, no, it's alright. I just thought, since she was here first, and everything."

In truth, Matthew felt highly conflicted about the whole topic. On the one hand, who wouldn't want to find out that they have rich relatives likely to bequeath a fortune to them? But this was Matthew. His gentle, kind personality and way of deflecting fights would not allow him to simply accept such a thing. If he had been brought up amongst the family, knowing who he was, he would no doubt have had no problem with this, expect it even, but he hadn't. The thought of inheriting everything made him feel, rather than safe and secure, suddenly lost and adrift.

The reality of his situation came quite suddenly crashing down, and he felt himself blinking back tears. Francis rushed to his side, scared.

"Matthieu? Matthieu? _Mon dieu_ , what is wrong? I am sorry, this is too much for you all at once. I will talk to Michelle about this, you can be sure."

Matthew shook his head. "No, please, its fine. It's just a lot to take in, that's all. Please, can we just go inside?"

Francis nodded. "Of course, _mon Cherie_. Come, this way." He put his arm around Matthew's shoulder and led him towards the house.

Once dinner was over, the adults retired to their room or the lounge. Matthew briefly debated going to the games room which Michelle had shown him during the tour, but decided against it. From what he had seen, it had the usual snooker table and darts board, as well as a few newer additions of some games consoles and a flat-screen tv, which Michelle had told him his grandfather usually kept on the sports channel. He decided to leave it to another day. It would all be in French, anyway, so he wouldn't be able to understand any of it, and it would take far too long to change the language on any of the games.

Instead, he stood looking out of the window, admiring the night sky. It was full of stars, so much more than he would see at home. If nothing else, that would have been worth it alone for the trip, he mused.

His phone chimed with a text. It was from Carlos, the teen Matthew had met on the plane.

 **Hey, this is Carlos. Wanna meet up sometime tomorrow? I got the whole day free, so any time is fine by me.**

Matthew read it and smiled. **Yes, that would be nice. I'll have to ask my father, but would sometime after 11 o'clock be alright?** he replied, and sat back to wait for the reply. It came a moment later.

 **C:** **Sounds cool to me. So what do you think of France so far?**

 **M: It's nice. The garden here is huge, and my family seem very nice. I have an adopted cousin my age called Michelle, who showed me around. And the sky is amazing. I've never seen so many stars!**

 **C: Yeah, it's pretty sweet. I've got some cool shots if you wanna see.**

 **M: I would love to see some of your work. That would be great. Thank you.**

 **C: No problem, dude. See ya tomorrow, yeah?**

 **M: Yeah.**

The two texted for a while, discussing the merits of various cameras and photography options (mainly on Carlos' side, Matthew's knowledge of photography was rudimentary at best). Carlos offered to show him around Paris, which Matthew accepted readily. Once they exchanged goodnight texts, he turned his phone off and resumed staring up at the stars.

His thoughts were broken by a soft knocking on his door. He turned to see Francis standing in the doorway, holding a candle. _Does this house not have lights?_ Matthew couldn't help the thought.

Francis must have caught his look, as he laughed softly. Setting the candle down on the dresser, he walked over to stand next to Matthew.

"A candle is more beautiful on a night like this, oui?"

Matthew looked up at the stars again, then nodded. "I suppose." His voice was distant. Francis frowned, worried.

"What is wrong, _mon ami_?"

Matthew shook his head to clear his thoughts, then turned to face his father.

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Everything. It's true what they say, I guess. The stars really are the same wherever you are. But I've never seen them like this before." His gaze drifted back upwards, fascinated with the display.

Francis grinned. "Would you like to see more?"

Matthew blinked. "Don't tell me we have…" Francis nodded. "Oui. Follow me." Matthew's eyes gleamed, and he eagerly followed his father out of the room.

Francis led him through the house until they reached the end of the corridor on the third floor. He opened a small door at the end, revealing a set of stairs.

"At the top" he said. He went up, leaving Matthew to follow him. Once up, a small patio was revealed, with a table and chairs set to one side. That was not what Francis was showing him, however. He led Matthew over to the edge.

A tall telescope stood against the wall, its lens pointing up towards the sky. Matthew couldn't help a small gasp of amazement seeing it. Francis smiled and motioned to it.

"Go ahead. It is fully focussed."

Matthew walked over as if in a trance. Francis showed him how to turn the lens and focuser, the stepped back. He felt a strange flood of emotion watching the pure wonder in his son's face. How many times had he missed this while Matthew was growing up? What else had made him show such childish joy that he hadn't been there to see? He shook his head, determined to ignore such thoughts. It did no good to dwell on the past. Whatever mistakes he had made, he was determined to make the best of it now. He could only hope that Matthew would allow him to.

The boy in question turned around. His eyes were still wide with wonder, the moonlights glinting off his glasses. His mouth was slightly open with amazement. He grinned at the man.

"This is amazing! Thanks for showing me, dad."

He clapped a hand to his mouth, stunned that the word had slipped out. He stared down at his feet, scared to look up at Francis.

After a long moment of silence, he heard Francis swallow hard. "Y-you are very welcome, Mattieu" he said quietly.

Matthew gained the courage to look up. Francis' eyes were full of tears. Seeing his son, he gave a watery smile. He shook his head slightly.

"Well, it is getting very late. You should get to bed, _non_? Maman would have my skin if she knew how late you are up. We will talk more tomorrow, if you want. We could go into the city, perhaps."

Matthew nodded. "I'd like that. I, uh, arranged to meet someone, though."

"Oh?" Francis sounded surprised.

"Uh, it's just a guy I met on the plane. He said he's doing some photography and he's here to get some photos of the architecture. I said I would ask you before I decided anything, but if its ok I would like to meet him."

Francis smiled. "Oui, of course. Did you say a time?"

"uh, I said after 11. Is that ok?"

Francis nodded. "Oui. I shall do some shopping and you can see Paris. Ah, to be able to see it for the first time!" he looked at Matthew.

"I really am so very glad you ae here, Mattieu. Truly" he said.

Matthew gave his father a tentative smile. "Me too. Thank you."

Francis nodded. "Now, to bed please."

Matthew's mouth quirked in a smile. He followed Francis back to his room. Bidding him good night, Francis took the candle, now almost burnt out, and left for his own room.

Matthew stood in the small room for a while, before turning and walking over the wardrobe. He undressed and changed into his pajamas, then slipped beneath the covers. His mind ran over the events of the day, and he stayed awake for some time, thinking over everything. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy with tiredness. Turning over, he snuggled in to the thick blanket and drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next day dawned bright and sunny, as typical of a French summer. For a few moments Matthew simply lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering where he was. Then the reality hit and he sat up suddenly, only to get dizzy and immediately lay back down again. He lay for a while longer, simply contemplating everything. He could hear the birdsong from outside (not that he could identify any of it, ornithology was not a passion of his) and listened to it wonderingly. It wasn't as though he didn't hear the dawn chorus at home, it was often obnoxiously loud and ridiculously early given the street lights making birds wake up in the early hours of the morning. It was just _so quiet_.

There were none of the sounds of a city that he was used to. No traffic, no bin lorries, no people waking up and sleepily driving to work to start their daily commute. _No Al yelling at Dad either,_ he thought with a smile. Now _that_ was a nice change. He suddenly remembered guiltily that he had not rung or texted either his father, brother or friends, as he had promised. Getting out of bed, he fumbled over the bedside table to find his glasses and slid them on. Picking his phone up from where he had left it, he turned it on, waiting for it to go through the tedious start up sequence.

Predictably, he was bombarded with texts and missed calls as soon as the device woke up. Most were from his brother, asking how 'rad' France was and if he had seen any cool sights yet _(he'd only been here less than a day, for goodness sake!)_. The text from Arthur was rather more polite, simply wishing him well and asking him to ring once he was able, as well as a warning not to let that 'blond frog' pressure him into anything. Matthew checked the time. As far as he remembered, his current location was only an hour ahead of home, so now would be a good time to ring. Luckily Arthur had planned ahead and bought him a new sim card to allow him to make long-distance calls. He hit the dial tone and waited.

It was Alfred who answered, his voice as enthusiastic as ever.

"Mattie! Bro! Dude, how's it going?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, thanks Al. Put me on speaker, will you?"

Alfred presumably did so, as Matthew heard the sounds of cooking, and muffled swearing. He felt a twinge of guilty relief at the thought that he would, for a while, be spared his father's often failed attempts at cooking. Arthur was actually quite a good cook, but as he rarely had the patience or time to put the effort in, his results were mostly unsuccessful, for the most part.

"Alfred, put that down. This is the breakfast table. Yes, I know it's your homework. Well, you should have thought about that last night when you had time to do it, shouldn't you? Oh, its on speaker. Hello, Matthew. Ignore everything your brother says, it's his own fault he doesn't do his work on time. Anyway, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

He heard the sounds of cooking and listened with a faint smile. He replied to Arthur's questions patiently, assuring him that he was fine and that Francis and everyone else had been nothing but wonderful. The conversation continued until Matthew heard a faint knock at the door. He turned to see Francis standing in the doorway, looking at his son with a faint smile. Matthew waved his hand.

"I'm sorry, dad, Francis is here. I have to go for breakfast now. My phone will be on all day, so you can ring or text me whenever. Al, remember to get my work for me, please. And be nice to Lovino, he's probably feeling left out. But don't let Feliciano get too worked up about it.

Yes. Yes. You too, dad. Alright. bye." He said goodbye and hung up, putting his phone down and turning to Francis, who smiled wistfully.

"That was your family, oui?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes. I forgot to ring them yesterday, so I had to let them know I was alright, and everything." He looked at Francis apologetically.

"I'm, uh, sorry if it seemed rude."

Francis tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in understanding.

"For using my name, you mean?"

Matthew nodded. "I'm sorry."

Francis shook his head. "Don't be. Artur is your father. I do not expect to replace him, nor would I wish to, at least not yet."

Matthew understood what he meant by that, and thanked him. Francis left the room for a minute to allow Matthew to dress, then showed him to the dining room.

Breakfast consisted of croissants, fresh from the oven, fresh rolls and baguettes a selection of butter and jams. A carafe of water stood on the side, along with juice, tea, coffee and milk. Matthew helped himself to a croissant and sat down. They ate in companionable silence, until Matthew spoke up.

"Um, where is everyone? Are we the first ones up?"

Francis laughed. "Non, Matthieu. Quite the opposite. I let you sleep in because you were tired from the flight and being up so late. Everyone else is up and away already. Although I think perhaps Michelle is not down yet. Honestly, that girl is a mystery to me. Always on her phone or laptop. But I suppose you are the same, oui?" He chuckled ruefully.

Matthew quirked a smile.

"eh, not really."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Non?"

His son shook his head. "Al lives for all that stuff, but not me. I forget I have it half the time."

Unlike Al, who seemed to spend half his time chatting or posting something and was always sending Matthew anything he found 'totally cool', Matthew didn't really use his phone all that much, just to text and check the news, weather and the few social media sites he had. Hence the slew of messages and missed calls from Alfred and Arthur when he turned his phone.

"Ah, that is good. This culture, it is not good for youth, oui? Too much worry over what your image is. By all means, care for yourself, but try not to let what others think of you affect yourself, Matthieu. No good will come of it, do you understand?"

Matthew realised that the serious words, coupled with the sad look on Francis face, showed that he spoke from personal experience. Once again he felt a rush of emotion for the man who wanted so desperately to be his father. It could not have been easy to return home, dealing with the grief of being widowed and having left his child, no doubt enduring the comments and whispers of his family and others.

He made the effort to smile brightly.

"I won't. I don't really understand all that stuff anyway."

Francis returned the smile. "So you are not in the limelight at school then?"

He shook his head. "No. That's Al's thing. He's loud, but I guess he has a way of drawing people to him. I prefer to stay on the sidelines."

"And clubs? Are you in any teams or anything?"

Matthew relaxed, pleased to be able to tell Francis about the team.

"Yes, actually. I'm on the football team at school. I'm actually glad I'm not playing at the moment."

"Oh?"

Matthew relayed Lovino's situation to Francis. Francis face steadily paled while he was speaking, and when he mentioned the name of the counsellor he was seeing, Francis gasped, then began to laugh weakly. Matthew faltered and stopped speaking.

"eh, is something wrong?"

Francis shook his head absently, still pale.

"It is just a strange world, that is all." Seeing his son's confused expression, he sighed.

"You see, myself and Tonio used to be very good friends. However, we got into some, how should I say, bad company. We were to be sent to what I think you would call a juvenile centre. It was only for the efforts, and I have to say money, of Pére that I escaped a harsher sentence. Of course I was given the beating of my life for it, but I never forgot that I was incredibly lucky. Tonio and Gilbert, of course, did not have the connections I did, and so they spent several years there. I am not sure what Gilbert did with his life. I contacted him when you were born, of course, but I do not know where he is now. It is a shame, that we lost touch. I blame myself, of course. I should have helped more. But that is the past. Tonio had regretted his actions, and I have to say it was in large my fault for encouraging him. He used his time to study, and I believe he moved back to Spain after completing his course.'

He looked at Matthew tentatively, as if unsure. Matthew levelled his gaze, his face curious. Francis continued.

'It was in part because of him that I finally decided to contact you. We had kept in occasional contact with each other, you see. When he told me that he had been contacted by an old friend of his who's grandson was having trouble at school, I was reminded of the son I had left. By this time Maman's health had already begun to turn, and I decided to look into finding you. When I finally gathered the courage to contact your aunt, I learned that not only were you safe and well, but at the very same school that Tonio was due to begin teaching at. It very nearly made me regret everything that I had decided, but it seemed so much like fate that I thought it was God's way of allowing me to atone for everything I have done. And now you have told me Tonio's, and of course your friend's -Lovino, is it?- side of the story. It truly is a miraculous world we live in, non?"

Matthew could only nod in agreement. It _was_ a remarkable set of coincidences, indeed. He gasped as he remembered something.

"You said you had lost contact with Gilbert, right?"

Francis nodded, hope coming to his eyes at Matthew's questioning tone.

"Well, when I told Lovino about you, he said he already knew. I thought it was because his brother had told him, since they're twins, but it turns out he had met Gilbert at a café outside of town at home. He said he told him the same thing you told me, that you had almost been sent to juvenile prison, and about Mr Carriedo majoring in psychology. Lovi said the reason he knew gilbert meant me was because he said Gilbert remembered you calling him and telling him he had a son named Matthew. Apparently he guessed it was me because I have a brother the same age as me and my mother is American. The similarity seemed too much to be a coincidence, so he realised Gilbert meant me. And to top everything off, his younger brother is our football coach."

Francis looked confused. "Younger brother? Gilbert does not have a younger brother. He is an only child."

Matthew thought for a moment. "Well, Coach Beilschmidt is in his first year of college, so I think he's nineteen. If Gilbert is the same age as Mr Carriedo, then he would be, eh,.." he stopped, wondering. Francis supplied the answer.

"I was seventeen and them a year younger when we…parted. I am 37. They would be 36. So he has a little brother? _Mon dieu_ , but they must be almost twenty years apart!" His face fell into a thoughtful expression.

"Now that I recall, his parents were incredibly young. I think perhaps that is part of the reason he fell so readily into the wrong crowd. There was a lack of parental influence at home, I think." He smiled ruefully. "Of course, I cannot say the same. What right have I to criticise?"

He fell into reflection, staring out of the window with a strange expression. Matthew sat in silence, not knowing what to say.

They were interrupted by a light knock on the frame of the door. Michelle walked in, wearing a bright red top and light cream-coloured slacks, partnered with little red flats. She walked over to the side table and picked out a baguette, then poured herself a coffee. She walked over to sit at the table, looking curiously from one to the other.

"Are you alright?" she asked lightly.

Francis came back to himself, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "oui, everything is fine, _Cherie._ Matthieu was telling me about his school, were you not, Matthieu?"

Matthew nodded, instinctively knowing that their conversation was not for her to hear. She turned to him curiously.

"Oh? Tell me! How is it like in England? Does it rain all the time like on the TV?"

Matthew smiled. They fell into easy conversation, discussing the differences in their respective schooling systems. Matthew could not understand her grade system, while she found it horrifying that they spent the whole of the week in classes, although marvelled at the fact that they did not have to go to school at weekends, unless for clubs or events. Francis excused himself to go and get ready, leaving the two chatting.

He came back down to find them washing up together, Matthew handing plates to Michelle to put away. She was hopping up and down the wooden stepladder, plates balanced carefully in her hands. She turned to see him standing there and hopped down with a rueful expression.

"Sorry, uncle."

Francis waved a hand at her. "Just be careful. Mattieu, are you ready to leave soon? We will have to hurry to be in the city by 11."

Michelle looked at him wonderingly. "You're going into the city? Can I come?"

Matthew turned from the sink, drying his hands on a tea towel. "I, eh, was actually hoping you would. See, I'm meeting up with someone I met on the flight over here. His name's Carlos, he's in Paris to study the architecture as part of his photography course. He's from Cuba."

Michelle grinned. "He sounds cool! Can I come, uncle?"

Francis nodded. " _Certainment, cherie._ I will hang back, I would not want to interrupt you youths. I will meet you at the tower for lunch, oui?"

She nodded. " _Merci_." She ran out of the room, presumably to grab her bag and jacket. Matthew turned to his father.

"I just have to get my bag and stuff."

Francis waved him off. "I will go and start the car. Please be ready in ten minutes, Matthieu." Matthew nodded and went out of the room to collect his bag and phone.

The excitement built as the car journey towards the city. Matthew couldn't quite believe it. _I'm actually going to Paris!_

His phone buzzed with a text.

 **C:** **Hey bro. You still on for 11?**

Matthew smiled.

 **M:** **Yes. We're on our way in now. I can't believe I'm actually going to see Paris!**

 **C: It's a great city. You coming with anyone? Don't want you to get lost before we meet!**

 **M: Yes, my dad's driving me and my cousin in. She's the same age me, I think you'll get on well. Her name's Michelle.**

 **C: Fine by me. See ya soon, bro!**

Matthew replied with a smiley face, then sat back with a matching grin of his own. Soon he would be in the one of the most famous cities in the world, the city of love. Most people dreamed of seeing it at least once during their life, and here he was about to see it for free. He stared out the small window in anticipation, eagerly watching for the first glimpse. He couldn't stop a gasp when he caught the first sight of the Eiffel Tower, growing steadily larger on the skyline.

Michelle and Francis shared a look. To them, of course, it was normal, just a familiar sight. But there was something wonderfully gratifying about seeing the look of amazement on the face of someone seeing it for the first time.

"Excited, Matthew?" Michelle teased.

He turned to look at her, his face alight with amazement. "Excited! It's the Eiffel Tower! For real!" he laughed softly.

"I am glad you like our city, Mattieu. I assure you, it is even finer up close." Francis didn't take his eyes from the road, but couldn't stop a smile spreading across his face at his son's enthusiasm.

Matthew's eyes only grew wider as they approached the city. Once Francis successfully found a parking space on one of the narrow streets, they got out of the car. For a long moment, Matthew simply stared at everything in front of him. It was exactly as he had imagined. The narrow, cobbled streets, lined with shops of every kind.

He took a few steps forward, then turned back, a huge grin on his face. "I'm in Paris! I'm actually in Paris!" he gushed.

Michelle laughed and took his arm. "Ok, tourist, that's enough. This way. You can marvel as we walk. Don't want to keep your friend waiting, ok?"

Matthew sobered up a little, nodding. "I'd better text him to say we're here." He took his phone out and sent a quick text. It chimed a moment later.

"He says he'll meet us at the column by the tower." He looked up. "That's close, right?"

Michelle nodded. "Yes. Come on then!"

Matthew nodded, still grinning. Michelle threaded her arm through his – "So you don't get lost, silly!"- and, with a promise to Francis to meet back in a few hours, they were off.

Francis watched them go, a wistful look on his face. "Ah, to be that young again." He smiled as Matthew turned around again to wave at him, then set off.

A/N

A few points here. One, I apologise to anyone from France. Your school system is very strange to a Brit, though. On that point, the setting has now been finalised as England, which is why the flight only took an hour. If anyone wants clarity on the British school system, I'll include details later.

Two, the chateau is loosely based on the real (although far more elaborate) Château de Rambouillet, located just over an hour southwest of Paris. However, I have to admit I've never been outside of the UK, so the details might not be correct. Google maps is by no means an accurate resource, but it's all I have.

On a side note, I do not currently have a beta for this or Love and Lightning. If anyone is able to, please let me know. If not, please consider reviewing to let me know whether you like it or not. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Matthew found he was thoroughly enjoying Paris. From the winding, cobbled streets to the open squares filled with shops and people, he felt at home. It was the same feeling he had felt upon seeing the house, a sense of _rightness_ , that this is where he belonged. It helped that both Carlos and Michelle were incredibly enthusiastic and welcoming tour guides, and Matthew was pleased to find that the two got on remarkably well.

And so the three of them made their way through the city, both vying to show Matthew the best Paris had to offer. At one point he looked back from staring in wonder at the architecture to see them both smiling at each other with a wistful expression. When he caught their gaze, they both grinned at him, causing him to smile sheepishly and rub the back of his head.

"I'm sorry. I must seem like such a tourist to you."

Michelle shook her head. "No! Well, yes, a little." Matthew tilted his head at her. "Ok, yes, a lot. But it is cute, isn't it, Carlos?"

The taller teen nodded. "Yeah, totally. It's always cool to see someone who's new to it all. We're all like that once. Gives you a sense of appreciation, you get me?"

Matthew laughed. "Umm, thanks, I guess?"

Michelle laughed at him. Skipping forward, she grabbed Carlos' and Matthew's arms, linking them together as a trio.

"This is wonderful! I have two wonderfully handsome and charming men as my escorts. I'm so lucky" she teased. She batted her eyelashes at Carlos." Where shall we take the little tourist next, monsieur photographer?" she asked.

The Cuban pretended to think about it. "I say we give him a taste of true French cuisine."

Michelle let go of his arm to clap delightedly. "Then that means sweets! I know the perfect place." She ran ahead, leaving Matthew and Carlos to follow her.

She led them across the square to a beautiful patisserie, the window full of the cakes, pastries and sweets on display. Matthew's eyes widened in delight as he stared at the trays. Michelle popped her head out of the door.

"If you're eyes go that wide just by seeing them, wait till you taste it!" she quipped. Matthew's face flushed red, and he followed her inside, still staring. He let her order, listening to her converse with the baker in rapid, fluid French. They must have said something about him, for she nodded and gestured to Matthew with a smile. Whatever she said made the baker wink and smile at him.

She made him turn around while the baker placed their order into the bag, saying that she 'didn't want him to spoil the surprise'. Matthew complied, smiling. He heard Michelle taking her purse out of her bag, then the sounds of the till as it opened and closed. Once the transaction was complete, he felt her hands on his back, propelling him out of the shop.

Once outside, Matthew glanced at her curiously. She waved him off, stuffing the bag in his hands.

"It's fine. I told him this is your first time in the city, so he gave you a little something extra. Welcome to France!"

Matthew stared down at the bag in his hands. Whatever it was smelt divine, the scent of sugar and pastry and something he couldn't identify wafting up from the bag. He opened it curiously.

The bag was full of macarons, pastries and little tarts. All neatly arranged on top of each other, brightly coloured and beautiful. He picked one out and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes. He took a bite. Taste exploded in his mouth. He couldn't stop a small moan of delight.

"Well?"

Opening his eyes, he saw Michelle staring at him, smiling. He blushed, seeing Carlos looking at him with a smirk as well. He nodded.

"It's amazing."

Michelle grinned and clapped her hands. "I knew it!" she crowed. Reaching over, she took the bag out of his hands, taking a square of nougat and popping it in her mouth. She offered the bag to Carlos, who accepted it and took a pastry, chewing slowly.

"Man, I missed these. Nothing like it at home, that's for sure." He licked the tips of his fingers to get rid of the sugar that clung to them.

"Oui. And now, coffee!" Michelle led them both to a café a few shops along. e three continued chatting. After a few minutes, the waiter brought their coffee, setting the cups down in an almost dance-like display. The coffee itself came in a carafe-like cafetière. Matthew inhaled the rich, strong scent.

It was poured into tiny cups, one for each of them. Matthew looked entirely out of place, making Michelle giggle.

"Don't look so nervous, Matthieu! This is how coffee is supposed to be drunk. Not hurried like your starbucks. Enjoy it, savour it. We don't need to rush."

Matthew blushed again, sinking back into his seat. Taking the cup, he took a small sip, blinking in surprise.

"Its good!" he said, amazed.

"Of course" she replied smugly. "This is proper coffee."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. He hadn't said anything, merely taking his cup and swallowing it in one gulp. He smiled at the other two, shaking his head and muttering something.

"What was that?" Michelle asked sweetly.

Carlos coughed. "Nothing, mademoiselle."

She smiled tartly at him. Matthew couldn't help chuckling, making the other two stare at him, then dissolve into giggles themselves.

They finished the rest of the coffee and made their way out. For the next hour, they wandered around, letting Matthew choose for the most part, until it was time to return to the tower and meet up with Francis.

He was, typically, leaning against the pillar aesthetically, looking for all the world like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot. In fact, there were not a few tourists taking pictures of him, which he seemed entirely used to. When he saw the three approaching, however, he stepped away and walked over to them.

"So, Matthieu, how do you like the city?" he asked.

Matthew beamed at him. He started telling hi, about everything he had seen, gushing with happiness.

Michelle took hold of Carlos' arm, motioning for them to hang back a few steps.

"Its is wonderful to see them get on, isn't it?" she said. She spoke in French, making sure Matthew could not hear them. "You know about their situation, right?"

Carlos raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "Yeah, he told me on the plane. Seems rough. Are you ok with it all, though?"

She smiled tightly. "Yes. Uncle Francis has spent too much time in guilt. Now that Matthew is here, he has a chance to be happy again."

Carlos nodded. "Fair enough. So what's the deal with you and him? I can tell you aren't exactly the same."

Michelle looked up at him in surprise, but relented. She told him her background, then looked up at him almost challengingly. "And you?" she asked, almost forceful.

He shrugged. "Not much to tell. My dad ran out when I was a kid, brought up by my mom and gran. Got into photography at school, found out I was pretty good at it, and applied for college. I got a scholarship somehow, and decided to major in architecture. Came here for the first time a couple years ago, and I've been coming ever since."

Michelle listened to this quietly, then surprisingly squeezed his arm tightly. "We have all had problems, haven't we?" she said quietly.

He laughed. "Sure got that right, little lady." She grinned at him. "But that is exactly why I so hope Matthew can connect with his father. Too many families are torn apart. I want to see my family come together." She gestured ahead, to where Matthew was eagerly telling Francis about the sweets and coffee they had had.

"Yeah, you're right" he murmured. He looked down at her, a small smile on his face. They fell into companionable silence, walking arm in arm behind the two, both smiling at seeing father and son gradually begin the process of becoming a family.

Francis took them to a local restaurant for lunch. As per tradition, lunch was the largest meal of the day, savoured over at least two hours. Without really discussing it, they chose to sit at separate, although side by side, tables, allowing Francis and Matthew to continue bonding. Francis paid for them all, waving away Carlos' attempts to pay him back with his typical attitude, saying that it was his treat for being a friend to Matthew.

They went their separate ways after that, Carlos apologising and explaining that he needed to get back to work on the pictures he had taken. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it was Michelle who told him to stay in touch. The two exchanged numbers, and Matthew shared a glance with his father. There was an unmistakable flush on the girl's tanned face, and Carlos didn't look entirely composed either. He said something to her that made her blush bright red, but nod, smiling.

Matthew waited until they were back in the car before saying anything.

"Did you have a nice date, Michelle?" he teased lightly.

She blushed immediately, hiding her face in her hands.

"You weren't meant to see that! Oh my goodness! Uncle, tell him not to tease!"

Francis glanced at her in the mirror. "Oh, does my little 'chelle have a beau? Perhaps I should have made him pay, for you at least?"

She blushed deeper, sinking into the seat. "oh, mon dieu, you are so embarrassing! MATTHEW!" she cried. Her cousin simply laughed softly, putting his phone away too late. He had taken a picture of their parting, her with her hands clasped delicately, Carlos looking down with a faintly blushing expression.

"Sorry. But that was very cute. You would make a lovely couple." He smiled. Michelle peeked out from behind her hands, sitting up again.

"You would not be angry?" she asked wonderingly.

Matthew blinked in surprise. "Angry? Why would I be angry?"

Michelle bit her lip, glancing at Francis. "I-I thought maybe…" she trailed off. Francis raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Michelle, you can say it, you know. I'm not ashamed of it." Matthew stared at her seriously.

She returned his stare, wide-eyed. "You?-"

"I'm gay, yes. Is that alright, papa?" Matthew asked almost challengingly.

Francis drew a deep breath, never taking his eyes off the road. Then, surprisingly, he laughed.

"I wondered when you would tell me. I love you, Matthieu. Nothing will change that."

Matthew looked surprised, but relaxed. "Thank you." Francis smiled at him. If he noticed what else Matthew had said, he didn't draw attention to it. Matthew swore he could see a hint of tears in his father's eye, however, and smiled to himself. He had thought about it the whole time they had been talking, as well as over lunch, and come to a conclusion.

It may not have taken long, but he knew that he was ready to accept Francis as his father. And now that his greatest fear had been spoken, and accepted, he knew that everything would be alright. It would take a while for him to work out how to balance everything in his life, but he was sure that somehow, everything would work out.

Once they were back at the house, Francis followed his son up to his room, standing in the doorway silently. Matthew allowed him to wordlessly, and waited until he had put the souvenirs he had bought away before sitting down on the bed and facing his father. He looked down at his hands, suddenly unsure.

Francis smiled at his son. Closing the door, he took the few steps forward until he was in front of Matthew. He crouched down and took his son's hands in his, running his thumb over Matthew's knuckles. His voice was infinitely soft as he spoke.

"Your hands are so like mine. The same, see?" he raised their joined hands to his mouth, and kissed their intertwined fingers. Matthew simply stared at him in confusion.

"Matthew."

The teen looked up at his father, unsure. Francis' face was calm, soft.

"I would, could never, hate any part of you. I have no right to judge you, nor will I ever. I love you, I have loved you from the moment I knew you existed, and I always will. I am very glad that you have told me how you feel, that you trust me this much. Thank you. You do not know how much it means to me."

Matthew knew that he wasn't just referring to his confession. Suddenly, he leaned forward and hugged Francis. The taller man leaned back in surprise, but drew his arms around his son tightly. He was surprised to find his shirt becoming damp, and heard the muffled sound of sobs.

He drew back in shock and worry. "Matthieu? What is wrong? Did I say something wrong? _Mon petit_ , please, talk to me."

Matthew sniffled, then laughed shakily. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He tried to calm down, eventually managing to stop his sobs.

"I haven't even told Dad" he confessed. "Or Al. You two were the first people I've ever told."

Francis only barely managed to hold back a gasp of shock. He had suspected Matthew's interests from the moment they met, but to hear that it had been a secret even from his own brother and stepfather was surprising, to say the least. In as neutral a voice as possible, he said "I am very pleased that you would tell me, Matthew, but why hide it? From your brother, if no-one else?"

Matthew swallowed heavily, his face turning sour. "Al doesn't think it's _manly_. All he cares about is his image, and that doesn't fit in with his perfect view of the world. It isn't that he's homophobic, exactly, but he still thinks being gay is like a joke." He frowned. "He'd probably be ok with it if I told him, but it would make things awkward. He's really too childish to be in a relationship with anyone, anyway."

Francis looked at him tenderly. "And your father?"

Matthew's frown deepened. "He's too busy with work to care about me, most of the time. He only notices me when mom praises me, and even then its only in passing. If I told him, he'd likely just forget about it anyway. Which I suppose is good. Mom would probably be cool with it. I think she's so focussed on things going right with _us_ that she wouldn't mind who I went out with, boy or girl."

Francis listened to this in silence. Then, with a light voice, he asked "and is there anyone you would like to, as you put it, go out with?"

Matthew's face blushed deep red. Francis laughed lightly. "Ahah! Not only is my son a lover of men, but he has a beau!" His face turned serious. "Tell me, it is your friend, _oui_? The one Tonio is trying to help?"

Matthew stared at him in shock. His mouth opened and closed, wordlessly. Eventually, he managed to stutter out "h-how did you know?"

Francis smiled again. "I could tell by the way you talked about him. But I waited until you were ready to tell me. I had hoped you would talk to me when you were ready, but I admit I did not think it would be so soon. You care for him very much, do you not?"

Matthew nodded shyly. "How long?" Francis asked. Matthew bit his lip, debating, then decided to tell his father the truth.

"Since the beginning of school" he confessed. Francis sat next to him, allowing Matthew to speak. As if in preparation, Francis reached over to the box of tissues on the table, taking a few out and giving them to Matthew. He took one, twisting it in his hands as he spoke.

"I first met Lovi at the open day for the school. I was there early because of dad, and Lovi literally ran into me. He hadn't seen me, and when he did he started swearing, saying it was my fault for being unnoticeable and called me a bastard. Then Feli came running up, and his grandfather yelled at him for being mean and made him apologise. I said it was fine and it was my fault for not paying attention. I offered to show them around the school since I had been so many times with dad. I noticed then that we seemed to have a lot in common, and then I got hold of the student list before school started and I noticed we were in the same class.

We get on because we're the same. Feli is friendly to everyone, and he and Al got on because they both love sports and food, and Lovi and I were both kind of left in the background. Lovi has spent his whole life in Feli's shadow even though he's older, just like me.

We've both spent our lives being compared to our brothers, and while I just kind of fade into the background he's got this whole act of pushing people away by acting harsh. But he's just scared. He doesn't want to let people in in case they think Feli is better than him, but he can't see that he's so different. Feli is a nice guy and a good friend, but he's so childish and he has a tendency to blabber. They're like the sun and moon, like me and Al. But where I got ignored because Al outshines me, even though I'm far better in class than he is, Lovi decided that if people weren't going to see him for who he is, there wasn't any point trying. He's always had a bad temper, and it got to the point where he was talking back, being disruptive, even skipping class. Now he's seeing Mr Carriedo and he really does want to try and change, but they can't see it.

That's why I made him take my place on the team. If they can see how good he is then maybe they'll stop comparing him to his brother. Maybe he can make them, kind of, pay for it somehow. He's so much braver than me like that. I wish I could turn around and snap the way he does, but I can't. so maybe, when I get back, we can…" he trailed off, suddenly realising how much he had said. His face flushed deeply again.

"I'm sorry."

Francis shook his head. "Don't be. You have kept this to yourself for a very long time, haven't you?"

Matthew looked at him curiously, then nodded slowly. He drew a deep breath, shuddering, then let it out with a laugh.

"Yeah. I really have." He couldn't stop tears falling again. Francis drew him into his arms, shushing him.

"I am so glad you have told me this. So very glad. I cannot apologise enough for not being there for you through all of this. I will never be able to forgive myself for it. But I am here now, and I can assure you that you are not, and you will never be, less than anyone else. Not your brother, not your classmates, not anyone. You are my son, and you are perfect. Do you understand?"

Matthew sniffled, laughing despite himself. Raising his head, he stared at Francis.

"Really?" he asked.

Francis nodded. "Really." He drew his arms tighter around him. Matthew relaxed into him, sobbing again, although in relief this time. Francis simply held him, rocking him slightly in comfort.

Inside, he was seething with anger. How could Arthur and Amelia have not realised their son's insecurity? He could tell that everything Matthew said applied to himself as well as Lovino, and he could not stop his anger at hearing his son confess his feelings. The fact that he was the first person Matthew had felt that he could trust to confide in, that would even listen to him, was both profoundly humbling and infuriating.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. Matthew had, from the beginning, shown a remarkable willingness to bond with a man who had suddenly appeared in his life, let alone as his father. Francis realised that this was not just due to Matthew's generally agreeable nature, but the fact that the boy saw him as someone who, likely for the first time in his life, saw him for himself, as an individual, and not as a shadow of his brother.

He felt another rush of guilt. He had thought that he had done the right thing by leaving Matthew with his aunt, thinking that having a brother the same age would only be good for him. Now he saw that there was every chance that _he_ was the reason for Matthew's anger, his lack of self-esteem, and his shy nature. He couldn't stop his own tears from falling.

Matthew noticed, and sat up, breaking the embrace.

"Papa? What's wrong? I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to say so much. I'm sorry."

Francis shushed him. " _Non_. It is my fault. I should never have left you. I am to blame for all of this. I am so sorry."

Matthew looked horrified. "NO! It's not your fault. You did what you thought was best. It's not your fault Al is such an arrogant fool, or Feli such an airheaded ditz. It's my fault I don't have enough courage to stand up to people. I know I should call Al out on his ego, and god knows he needs it sometimes, but I just don't have the strength to. I'm just weak."

Now Francis was the one to frown. He reached out and stroked Matthew's face. " _Non_. You are not weak, _mon petit_. I cannot speak of your brother, but you are not weak. Neither you, or your friend. Speaking of which…"

Matthew looked at his curiously. Francis smiled at him. "I think you should talk to him. Ah! I am not saying you should tell him of your feelings. That would not be taken well, at least at the moment, perhaps. But you should talk to him. Let him know that you are thinking of him, and that you will be there to help him when you return."

Matthew flushed slightly, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you, papa."

Francis leaned forward and kissed his forehead. " _non_. Thank you, Matthieu." Standing up from the bed, he leaned over and placed the box of tissues back on the bedside table. He walked over to the door, stopping with one hand on the frame.

"I am very glad you told me all of this, Matthieu. Please, know that you can talk to me about anything, at any time, and I will listen. I love you, _mon petit_."

Matthew nodded. "Thank you, papa."

Francis smiled. "Now, call Lovino. I will be downstairs when you finish. Tell him to give my love to Tonio, _oui_?"

With that, he slipped out of the door, shutting it gently behind him.

Matthew narrowed his eyes in thought, wondering, then decided to let it slide. Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, then hit the dial tone.

It rang for a few moments, then he heard the familiar voice.

"Si? What do you want, maple jerk?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Matthew drew a deep breath.

"Lovino?"

He heard the other scoff. _"Who else would it be, idiota? Do you know another Lovino Vargas?"_

Matthew laughed. "Just being polite. Anyway, I just wondered how things were going back home."

He heard Lovino scoff. " _Why ask me? Ask your brother. Or Feli. If you want someone to talk your ear off, use that idiot."_

"I've already spoken to Al. And actually, I'd rather talk to you than your brother, Lovi" Matthew replied calmly.

The line was silent for a moment. After a while, Lovino replied, his voice slightly surprised.

" _What did you want to talk about? I'm not gonna chat like some stupid high school girl, if that's what you want."_

Matthew smiled. "I just wanted to know how things were going back home, that's all."

" _That's it? You wanna keep up with all the gossip?"_

Matthew didn't reply. Lovino kept quiet for a moment, as though biting off one of his usual sarcastic comments. Eventually, he sighed.

" _It's been two days, idiot. How do you think things are going?"_

 _Success at last!_ Matthew thought. Instead, he said lightly

"Well, I suppose. But tell me, how did your first session go? Is Mr Carriedo nice?"

On the other end of the phone, Lovino flushed, frowning. " _W-what's that got to do with anything, bastardo?"_ he asked. Matthew chuckled.

"Just wondering. But seriously, don't let them get you down. You can do this, Lovi. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

" _Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, jerk."_

Matthew quirked a smile. "I know. How was practice, then? Is the team ok?"

He could almost hear Lovino roll his eyes. _"I suppose. Feli ran around like an idiot telling everyone to 'be nice to me and include me' and all that crap. Potato bastard made me introduce myself like some idiota, like he doesn't know they all know me anyway. And your brother said something like 'as long as you don't try to break my arm again, we're cool'. And he called me dude, which is stupid."_ He sighed. " _But, I suppose he's helping. But they're all still jerks!"_

Matthew couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face at his words. "So, all things considered, its going well, then?" he asked lightly.

The reply came quiet, and grudgingly. "….I suppose it could be worse." Lovino tried to sound angry, but didn't quite manage it.

"Well, I'm glad. I don't have much to tell over here, I'm afraid. It's very green, and quiet. Paris was amazing. I met up with a guy I started talking to on the flight, and I think by the end of the day he was hitting on my cousin – only she's not really my cousin, my grandparents adopted her so it's just easier to explain – and from the way she blushed I reckon she's pretty into him too. Then I had a long talk with my father and we smoothed things over. Then he suggested I check in with everyone back home, so."

If Lovino could tell he was holding something back, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked " _So how long are you going to be? Not that I care, but I don't trust Alfredo or fratello to take your work for you and it's gonna be a real chore taking notes for you, jerk."_

Matthew smiled again. He walked over to where a calendar hung up on the wall. "I don't know. I haven't really talked to my grandparents properly yet, but probably tomorrow. I think papa-eh, Francis, said the doctor is coming to the house the day after tomorrow, so I suppose it depends on, well…" he trailed off, not needing to finish the words.

The line was silent for a long time.

" _I'm sorry. Matteo_." Lovino sounded uncharacteristically quiet. Matthew blinked back tears, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting him again.

"Thank you, Lovino. That means a lot."

Lovino went quiet again, as though he was gathering up courage to speak. When he finally replied, it was hesitant, as if he was unsure.

" _If- if you ever need to talk, I'll listen. I know what it's like. When mama…went, I would have liked to talk to someone. So, if you need to, I'll be here."_

Matthew blinked in surprise. For Lovino to say something so serious, without adding his usual interjection or denial, was completely unexpected, but welcome. He felt a rush of gratitude.

"Thank you, Lovi. You have no idea what that means to me."

Lovino coughed, hiding his embarrassment. _"yeah, well. Don't think you're anything special. I just think no one should have to face loss alone, that's all."_

 _I won't be alone. I'll have papa, and Michelle, and grandfather, and everyone else._ Matthew knew that would be callous to say, however.

"Well, thanks. And I'm sorry for your loss" he replied.

Lovino muttered a thanks, sounding distant. Trying to lighten the mood, Matthew stated

"You can tell Feli and Al I've got them souvenirs. Tell Al his is super cool. And I hope Feli likes his. I tried to find something he would like, and I think I managed."

Now Lovino sounded his usual angry self. "Oh yeah? And what about me, bastard? Do I not get anything?"

Matthew laughed. "Of course. But wouldn't it ruin it if I told you what it was?"

Lovino simply huffed. Matthew took that to mean yes.

 _How much of a surprise would it be, I wonder, if I told you the truth?_

Not wishing to dwell on that thought, he said brightly "well, I'll be here for a while yet, so if there's anything you want, let me know. There's so many shops here, I could get just about anything. And the food! Michelle took me to a little sweet shop, and I don't think I've ever seen so much sugar in my life! It's true what they say, the chefs here really are the best. It's going to be strange coming home after this, but it makes me very glad dad isn't allowed in the kitchen any more. I don't think there's any way I'd be able to stomach _his_ food after this!"

Lovino held back a cough of laughter. He remembered Matthew telling him about Arthur's disastrous attempts at cooking before, resulting in numerous burnt dishes and one eventful visit from the fire brigade, who politely suggested that perhaps his talents did not extend to the culinary arts. Since then Amelia had been in charge of the kitchen, and both Matthew and Alfred were extremely glad of it.

They talked for a while longer, with Matthew repeating his plea to Lovino to 'just keep your cool and stick it to them if they say anything' as well as the likely futile jest to be nice to his brother, to which Lovino simply scoffed.

" _Yeah, yeah. Play nice to Feli, play nice with the team, listen to the tomato bastard. I get it. Now get off my back."_

Lovino's voice lacked his usual anger, though. He sounded more resigned than anything, Matthew thought. Which was a good thing.

As an afterthought, he remembered to pass on Francis' greeting to Antonio, earning another scoff from Lovino.

" _What does he think I am, huh? A fucking mailman?"_

"Language, Lovino."

That simply earned him more of the same.

After promising that he would ring again soon and that he would keep a lookout for any good presents, Matthew ended the call and sat back, thinking.

 _I wonder if I ever_ would _tell him_.

It was all conjecture, anyway. Nothing more than pure fantasy. After all, Matthew hadn't ever had any hints that Lovino might feel the same way, although if his blushing at the mention of his counsellor was anything to go by then there was at least _some_ hope that he wouldn't be met with disgust, at least.

No. Better to not say anything and at least have the possibility of something happening, than ruin what little friendship Lovino had by blurting out a confession that would likely be met with nothing more than awkwardness and scorn at best, and outright derision and rejection at most.

With that out of the way, Matthew threw his phone down on the bed and went downstairs to find the rest of the family.

Lovino sat back and stared at his phone. He had been surprised, to say the least, seeing his screen light up with the incoming call. He hadn't forgotten Matthew's promise that he would keep in touch, but as with any display of affection or friendship, he had paid it little mind, assuming that Matthew meant his brother, as usual.

If he was honest, though, it was nice. He had never been the sort of person to spend hours texting and calling friends anyway, but his behaviour had pushed away the few friends he had to the point that he couldn't remember the last time his phone hand rung for anyone other than family. It was only due to his own laziness that he hadn't deleted any of his few contacts to accept Matthew's call at all.

The conversation lingered in Lovino's mind. He knew that he shouldn't think of it as anything more than Matthew's generally good-natured attitude, but somehow his words felt more genuine than the constant reassurances and praise that he was being showered with by his grandfather and Antonio.

The fact that Matthew had chosen to speak to him rather than his brother was surprising as well. He had naturally assumed that Matthew would want to talk to Feliciano, as everyone else did. It was a small gesture, but it was strangely gratifying somehow.

As to what he had told Matthew, it was true. He thought back to his first session with Antonio.

Lovino had entered school that morning with resignation. After sitting through his homeroom session, Feliciano chattering away next to him the whole time, the bell had finally rung and the day began.

He was surprised to find how much he had missed of his lessons. Although he had tried to catch up as much as possible during his suspension, it came as a shock that all the times he had skipped classes had accumulated rather quickly, and he was now further behind than he thought.

The morning dragged on. The bell rang for the break, and Feliciano immediately took the opportunity to grab his brother's arm and drag him to where the rest of the group. He had stood there awkwardly as everyone chatted, Alfred yelling in his typical fashion while the others either carried on quieter conversations or wandered off to grab a bite to eat.

He had found himself approached, surprisingly, by Kiku, one of Feliciano's best friends.

"Are you alright, Lovino-kun?"

Lovino had turned to him in surprise, about to mutter a comment, but, seeing the serious expression on the boy's pale face, he let the words die and simply sighed.

"What do you think?" he replied.

Kiku quirked a smile at him. "It isn't easy to fit in at school, especially if you have problems. Or are…different."

Lovino shot him a glare. "What would you know? You're a poster boy for model students."

Again the slight, barely noticeable smile. "Maybe. But I know what it's like to be in the shadow of those who are a lot, well, _louder_." He looked over to where Feliciano was chattering loudly to the others. From the looks of it, he was being teased about something by Yong-Soo and a girl with long dark hair and a flower behind her ear, making him blush deeply and try to hide behind Alfred, who was laughing as well.

Vaugely, Lovino remembered her name was Mei. She and Kiku were cousins, or something, he thought.

"Family can often be the worst, can they not?"

Lovino looked back at Kiku. He was watching Mei, Yong-Soo and Leon with a blank expression, but Lovino could tell what he meant.

"How many cousins do you even have?" he asked bluntly.

Kiki frowned slightly. "A lot. Sometimes, too many. Our house is large, and Yao likes company" he answered vaguely.

Lovino put a hand to his head. _Is he purposely vague or just annoying?_ He thought.

He was saved from having to reply by the bell ringing for the end of the break. Feliciano stopped chattering and bounded over to him to grab his arm again. Lovino shook him off roughly.

"Get _off,_ _idiota_. What are you, my damn jailor?"

Feliciano pouted. "But Loooovvviii. We gotta get to class now!" he whined.

Lovino frowned. " _You_ do, dumb _fratellino_. I have to go see the stupid tomato bastard now."

Feliciano let go of him and clapped his hands together. "Yay! You remembered!"

"What? If you knew, why did you…ah, forget it. You're an idiot. Get to class."

Feliciano didn't seem bothered by that. Instead, he let Alfred turn him around and start steering him down the corridor to their class, only to stop and turn around halfway down to shout back

"Say hi to Mr. Carriedo for me! And be nice!"

Lovino flushed. He told himself it was because of the embarrassment of his brother yelling at him along the hallway, and _not_ the prospect of spending an hour with his newly appointed and entirely unwanted counsellor.

He lingered as long as possible in the corridor, until the last few students had made their way to class, before finally setting off. His feet took him along the halls until he stood outside the newly painted office with its small, clear sign.

 _A. F. Carriedo, School Counsellor._

Standing there in trepidation, he slowly lifted his hand and knocked on the door. He waited, hearing the faint sound of papers shuffling, until he heard the spaniard's cheery voice ring out.

"If that's you, Lovi, come in!"

Sighing, he turned the handle and opened the door. Antonio looked up and grinned at him.

"Lovi! You made it!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. " _Who else was it gonna be, bastard?"_ he muttered. He took a quick glance around the room. Antonio had obviously tried to make it as welcoming as possible, given the general dullness of a school office, but it had worked, to an extent. His desk was set to one side, allowing both he and the student to look out across the grounds out of the wide windows. This arrangement also allowed the sun to stream in, bathing the room in soft yellow light that did wonders to dispel the white glow that would otherwise have made the room look far too clinical.

His personal touches were also evident. The bookcase behind his desk, although containing his textbooks and folders, was also holding, amongst other things, a mismatched set of lion bookends, a battered copy of the oxford English dictionary, and a mug emblazoned with something in Spanish that Lovino couldn't read from where he stood but was probably the kind of good-natured crudity that adults seemed to find hilarious. He scowled.

Slinging his bag to the side, he sat down on the low, chaise-longue-imitating chair that was obviously designed to look appealing, but utterly failed. He looked down at his hands.

Antonio let him sit in silence for a moment, then spoke.

"So. What do you wanna talk about today, Lovino?"

Lovino raised his head, confused.

"What do you mean, bastard?"

Antonio tutted. "Language, Lovi. Anyway. You thought this was gonna be another lecture, didn't you?"

Lovino looked down at his hands again, shrugging.

"Lo~vi, look at me."

He did, reluctantly. Antonio placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, then stared at him.

"I'm not gonna give you a lecture, Lovi. The fact that you actually came today is a brilliant start for you."

Lovino scowled at him.

Antonio ignored him, continuing calmly. "It shows that you really are committed to this. OF course, you could get up and leave at any moment and I probably wouldn't stop you, but I _would_ be obliged to tell your grandfather. And I'm guessing you wouldn't want that."

Lovino stared at him in shock. "Are counsellors supposed to blackmail their students, bastard?" he asked.

Antonio shrugged. "Probably not. Are students supposed to address their counsellors, or any adult for that matter, as bastard?"

Lovino kept scowling, but flushed slightly at the chide.

Antonio didn't seem particularly bothered, however, and continued. "But you are not just my student, Lovi. Of course I am required to help you _as_ a student, but I do not care about the school's records. I care about _you._ "

His voice softened. "When I look at you, I still see the little boy I watched run around my fields in summer and eat all of my tomatoes. Tell me, Lovi, what happened?"

Lovino simply kept his scowl. Antonio kept a light smile on his face, waiting. Lovino tore his gaze away and stared down again, shrugging.

Antonio stayed silent. So did Lovino.

Eventually, the teen muttered something.

"What was that?" Antonio asked.

Lovino didn't repeat it, but his face flushed angrily. Again, Antonio simply waited until the silence grew too long.

"Feli."

Antonio smiled.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now, what about Feli?"

Lovino scowled. "Everything."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Everything, huh? Wow, and he seems so nice!"

"Bastard. Don't be sarcastic. I didn't mean like that."

"Then what did you mean?" Antonio asked.

Lovino flushed again. He twisted his hands together, not wanting to reveal the truth. Now that he was here, opposite Antonio, everything seemed terribly childish, and he felt stupid for it all.

"Let me see if I get this right, then" Antonio cut in.

Lovino jerked his head up, frowning, but didn't say anything.

"So. Feli is, how would you say, excitable, si? Since you were both little, he's always been more open to the world. So, I would assume he is the same in class?"

Lovino nodded, slowly, reluctantly.

"So, lets imagine you are in class. You think it's boring, si? You just want it to be over? No?"

Seeing Lovino's frown, he raised an eyebrow. "No? See, your records show you had high grades before this, Lovi. Don't tell me you actually liked school?"

Another glare. "So what if I did, bastard?"

Antonio smiled. "Alright. So you kept your head down – relatively – and did your work. But what happened to change that? Why decide so suddenly that you don't want to?"

Lovino hunched his shoulders, refusing to look at the man.

Antonio sighed. "If you don't answer, Lovi, I'm just gonna keep guessing."

Lovino didn't reply, and kept his gaze stubbornly on the floor.

"Ok. I'm just gonna talk then, and you correct me if I get anything wrong."

No reply, but Lovino's scowl intensified. Antonio took this as a good sign, and started talking in a gentle tone.

"You've always been quieter than your brother. Not that you don't have quite the temper when you get angry- which you did an awful lot when you were little – but little Feli is a lot more open than you. You've put up with it all your life, but when you started school Feli found it easier to make friends. You stayed back and let him drag you around, but you did your work well and didn't make a fuss unless you were angry. You grew up, and now you're in high school. You don't wanna be popular, but your brother is, and you can't help but feel left out even if you tell yourself that you don't care. You think that if you keep working hard and get good grades then you can make up for not being popular, but you find it doesn't make any difference because no-one really notices."

He kept his voice calm and level, judging the boy's reaction. Lovino sat sullenly quiet, studiously ignoring him. His brows twitched, however.

Antonio continued. "So you began to sit back, not try as hard and see if that works. When you still get left aside, you start to get angry, because perhaps it doesn't matter what the attention is as long as people notice you? This works for a while, because you get a reputation as a troublemaker and being disruptive, but soon the teachers don't want to deal with you and now you're getting stared at in anger, which you hate despite telling yourself that you don't care. So you begin to skip classes completely, because you think that if no one is gonna notice you then there is no point going there at all. Besides, they all seem to care for your brother more than you anyway, so you aren't even going to be missed. Now you realise that you have a chance to change, but you think you are so far along this path that there is no point turning around."

Lovino was still staring at his hands, clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. His face was tilted down, trying and not quite succeeding to hide the fact that he was perilously close to tears.

Antonio kept his voice infinitely gentle as he spoke. "So now you are at war with yourself and the world, because you are realising that things were not so very bad as you thought, and now you are feeling like you were a little fool, but you were too wrapped up in your anger and hate to see that there are a lot of people who care about you and welcome you. So now you still want to push them away because you cannot bear to be rejected again, but you also desperately want someone to hold you and accept you and tell you that everything will be alright. Because you don't want to believe that it will be."

He stopped suddenly.

"Is that about right, Lovino?" he asked.

Lovino blinked, the motion releasing the tightly-controlled tears he had tried to hard to keep at bay. He drew a sleeve across his eyes roughly, refusing to look up.

"So you think I'm a stupid little fool who got himself all worked up over nothing, don't you? You bastard. You complete b-bastard. I hate you!" he snarled, or tried to. The effect was completely lost by the way his voice wobbled.

Antonio simply sat back and let Lovino yell at him. He knew that the act of venting all the jumbled, tangled mess of his feelings was precisely what Lovino needed.

"I do not think you are a fool. I _do_ think you have overblown things a little, but that is not your fault. It may not be noticeable to anyone else, but to you, your feelings are very real, and that is all that matters to me."

Lovino scoffed, or as well as he could through a throat clogged with tears. "Why would you care, stupid bastard?" he said.

Antonio quelled the urge to roll his eyes at the teen's typical overdramatics. Outwardly, however, he simply sighed. "Lovino, give me a break here. You are not stupid, I know you aren't. Don't demean either of us by saying stupid things."

Lovino bristled, but at least stayed quiet.

"I _do_ care. Do you really think that I would drop everything to move to a different country on nothing more than the concern of an old friend that his grandson is acting up and needs help?"

He sighed again, louder this time. "I do not want to lecture you, Lovi. I could repeat what you have no doubt heard before, but that is not what you need."

A raised eyebrow. "Oh?" Lovino challenged. "Tell me' he said, regaining his usual sarcasm 'what does the great counsellor say I 'need'?"

Antonio again held back a rather strong desire to say something along the lines of the fact that a sound thrashing wouldn't go amiss, but instead replied in a level tone,

"reassurance. You simply need someone to believe in you. You have distanced yourself from everyone to such an extent that you now believe you are not worth attention. Well, _I_ believe in you, Lovi, and I know you can't see that you are worth so, so much more than you think, and I want you to be able to see it too." He stared at Lovino, who tried his best to keep his scowl in place.

Antonio held his stare until Lovino's face flushed deeply, and he wrenched his gaze away, staring at the wall behind his desk.

"There is only one thing I can say. I want to help you, Lovino. Will you let me try?"

Lovino kept staring at the wall. Antonio sighed. _I am sorry, Roma. It seems as though even I cannot do anything for him_.

Then, astoundingly, Lovino nodded. It was the barest tilt of his head, barely more than a fraction of an inch, but it was there.

Antonio's face broke out into a wide smile. "Thank you, Lovi. It would have been very difficult to explain to your grandfather that even I couldn't get through to you." He chuckled.

Lovino muttered something.

"What was that, Lovino?"

Another scowl.

"Lo~vi."

"I said you're still a bastard and I hate you!" he snapped. Antonio laughed again, then got up from the desk and came to stand beside Lovino's chair.

" _Dios mio,_ but you really have not changed since you were little. Still my stubborn little Lovi." He ruffled his hair affectionately, making sure to avoid the wayward curl that stuck out on the side of his head. Lovino slapped his hand away roughly, his face flushed deep red.

Antonio looked at the clock. It hadn't been the full hour, but he didn't think Lovino would mind.

"Well, in any case, I am very glad that you told me everything, Lovi." Never mind that it had in fact been the other way around, but close enough.

"Now, do you want to stay here until the bell rings? I need to look over your work so far."

Lovino twisted his mouth in a thin line, but reluctantly unzipped his bag and handed over his books, snatching back his hand as soon as Antonio took them.

They spent the next quarter of an hour in silence, Antonio flicking through the pages, occasionally humming, while Lovino took the opportunity to take his phone out his pocket and flick through it. To his surprise, he had a text from Matthew, reminding him to 'be nice to Mr Carriedo' and that he wanted to know how it went afterwards. He also seemed to have sent a text that he missed him, which Lovino dismissed as being sent to the wrong person. He was still puzzling over it when he heard the bell ring, signalling the end of the session.

Antonio looked up at the sound, shuffling the books back together. He handed them over to Lovino, who took them equally as quickly as before and shoved them back in his bag. He stared at the phone in his hand, not looking up at Antonio.

"Don't look so scared, Lovi. Your work is good. Better than good. Just keep paying attention and keep your head down, ok? I know it's hard, but don't let anything anyone says get to you."

Lovino frowned, but didn't say anything. That was a great start, Antonio thought. That or he wasn't listening. Antonio looked down to where Lovino was apparently engrossed in his phone.

"Is everything ok?" he asked, concerned.

Lovino's head shot up. "It's fine. Nothing" he said quickly.

Antonio raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment. Hearing the rush of students outside, he stood up and walked over to the door, holding it open.

To no-ones particular surprise, Feliciano stood outside, Alfred at his side, texting someone, probably Matthew. When he saw the door open, Feliciano gasped happily.

"Fratello!" he lunged forward to grab Lovino, who took a step back at the sudden weight. Alfred simply waved at him.

"Hey dude. Oh, uh and Mr Carriedo. Sir." He nodded respectfully at Antonio, who chuckled.

"Go on, Lovi. Back to class. See you later!" he all but pushed Lovino out of the door, making both brothers stumble. Alfred reached out an arm and steadied them absently.

Lovino kept staring at his phone, looking confused. Feliciano let go of him and bounced over to Antonio.

"Was he good? Please say he was good. Nonno's gonna be mad if he wasn't, and then he'll get mad at you and he won't invite you over for dinner anymore. And I really like it when you come over and tell funny stories. Do I have to hit him again?"

Antonio laughed. "Hola, Feli. Yes, Lovi was remarkably good. Weren't you, Lovi?"

The other ignored them, still staring at his phone in puzzlement. Antonio frowned quickly in concern.

"Wait, when did you hit your brother before?" he narrowed his eyes at Feliciano.

The boy looked suitably sheepish. "The day you were first here. When I went up to give Lovi the letter, I was so angry I kind of punched him. It really hurt my hand though."

Antonio's eyes brightened in comprehension. "Oh. So that's why his cheek was red when he came down with your grandfather. I did wonder." They both laughed.

"Anyway. Get to class, the three of you. I don't want your teacher to come down here and yell at me. Go on. Lovino, I'll see you on Friday, same time, alright?"

Still no acknowledgement. Lovino was now taking surreptitious glances at Matthew's phone, trying to see the screen. Feliciano and Antonio glanced at each other, confused.

"Fratello!" Feliciano all but yelled in his brother's ear, making him jump about a foot in the air.

" _Che cazzo fa!"_ Lovino jerked his head up, slamming into Felicano's in the process, who had leant over to see what Lovino was looking at on his phone. The two immediately grabbed their heads, moaning in pain. Alfred looked up at the sound, then caught Antonio's eye. They both burst into loud laughs, smothered helplessly when both brothers turned to them, Lovino furious, Feliciano in pitying pain.

"For god's sake, fratellino, that fucking hurt!" Lovino snapped. For once, Antonio didn't correct him on his language. For his part, Feliciano simply held his head, whimpering.

"That huuuuuurrt, Lovi" he whined

"Well you shouldn't have been so close, then, _idiota_!"

"OK, guys, break it up. Gotta get to class now. See ya, Mr Carriedo sir!" Alfred said brightly. Grabbing each brother by their collar, he effortlessly dragged Feliciano and Lovino along the corridor, ignoring their protests.

Antonio watched them go, fondly. "Well, that could have been worse" he said, to the empty corridor. Then, with a smile, he went back into the office and closed the door, satisfied.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lovino was decidedly _not_ satisfied. After listening to his brother's continued whinging all the way along the corridor to their next class, he eventually rounded on him, furious.

"It was your own damn fault, bastard. Learn to give some damn privacy and maybe you wouldn't have done it, huh!"

Feliciano pouted at him. "But you weren't listening to Antonio! You were staring at your phone and I wanted to know what you were looking at!" he whined.

"Yeah, dude, what was with that?" Alfred asked curiously. Lovino whipped his head up to stare at the taller boy, his face red.

"Nothing!" he barked. Alfred's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Ok, chill, dude. You don't have to say, it's cool."

To his surprise, Lovino looked down, abashed, and muttered an apology. Alfred stared at him curiously, but for once didn't press it further.

Once they finally got to class, they took their seats quickly, settling down. It wasn't long before Lovino's phone buzzed with a text.

 **(A) Dude, you ok? You looked pretty shook before. Wanna tell?**

Lovino bit his lip, wondering whether to reply. Eventually, he typed back slowly.

 **(L) Has you brother said anything to you?**

He looked over to where Alfred sat, waiting. The blond looked confused, evidently having read the text.

 **(A) not since this morning. Why?**

 **(L) no reason.**

 **(L) oy, fratello. Has the blond's brother texted you?**

 **(F) You mean Mattie? No, why?**

 **And you shouldn't text in class, Lovi. Pay attention.**

 **(L) shut up, bastard. No reason.**

 **And you replied, you little bastard, so who's not paying attention now?**

 **(F)**

Lovino scowled, then put his phone away, still confused. If it wasn't Alfred _or_ Feliciano that Matthew had meant to send that message to, then he didn't understand it. Of course, there was the possibility that it was simply Matthew being nice, and expressing the faint feeling of missing home in general. He surely didn't mean missing _him_ , did he?

He tried to ignore the part of his brain that flushed with a sense of strange happiness if that _was_ the case, however.

He tried to pay attention to the rest of the lesson, but didn't quite manage. Luckily, the teachers seemed to be letting him ease back into lessons gradually, and for the moment at least, he was exempt from having to talk to the rest of the class.

The bell eventually sounded for lunch, breaking his thoughts. As yesterday, Feliciano bounded over to him practically immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently for Lovino to finish putting his book back in bag.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! I'm hungry" he whined.

Lovino simply stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. Alfred ambled over and drew Feliciano back.

"Alright! We're set, it's lunchtime! Time to chow down!"

" _Dio_ , you're as bad as each other" Lovino grumbled, but followed them anyway.

Lunch was the normal crazy affair of trying to find a free table in the cafeteria. Luckily, the others had got there first and managed to save enough room for everyone, by dint of throwing bags onto spare seats and glaring at anyone who so much as looked at them. However, as the ones most likely to steal chairs (and anything else for that matter) were generally the younger years, it was never too much of a battle.

Lovino hung back for a moment before taking a seat. For one, he was still slightly unsure as to his reception amongst the group. For another, there was the matter of Matthew's text. He stood, clutching the strap of his back, before finally coming to a decision.

Stepping forward, he grabbed Alfred's arm and yanked him up from his seat, tugging him backward.

"Dude, what the heck?" Alfred yelled.

Seeing Lovino's expression, however, he stepped forward and leaned in.

"You ok, bro? You seem kinda off" he said quietly, or as close as he could get to something approximating it.

Lovino didn't respond, but tugged his arm again, jerking his head towards the door. Even Alfred was not as clueless as to miss that signal, and nodded.

Once they were safely in the stairwell, away from prying ears, Lovino let go and stood with his arms folded, glowering.

Alfred, with a remarkable display of acuity, simply leant against the wall, watching him. "I'm guessing this is something to do with the text you send me earlier?" he asked.

Lovino kept glaring, then relaxed slightly. He nodded curtly, but didn't offer an explanation. Alfred sighed. "Ok, bro. What exactly did Mattie say? It musta' been pretty bad if it got you all riled up like this. Wanna give me a hint here?"

Lovino's mouth twisted, unsure. Eventually, he took his phone out of his pocket and thrust it into Alfred's hand, who took it with a baffled expression.

"Just read it" Lovino ordered.

Alfred did so, then looked up at Lovino, still utterly confused. "Uh, what exactly is this? Mattie says he misses you. So?"

Lovino's face fell into an unreadable expression. Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Dude, is this really what got you twisted up?"

When Lovino didn't reply, he sighed, running his hand through his corn-blond hair. "I really don't know what to say. Mattie's just being nice, like he always is. I gotta say, I don't get why it's a big deal." He sounded apologetic.

Lovino stood in silence for a moment. He stepped forward and snatched his phone out of Alfred's hand.

"Fine. It was nothing. Just confusing, that's all" he snapped.

Alfred's face was the picture of confusion. "Why? Mattie's a homeboy, of course he's gonna miss us."

Lovino raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Did he say it to _you_?" he asked challengingly.

Alfred smiled ruefully. "Well, yeah, but it's just, like family stuff. He said to Dad too, and I _know_ he doesn't miss _him_. They're not exactly best buddies, ya know?" he laughed.

Lovino's expression didn't change. He looked away, his face reddening. "…" he muttered something.

"What was that? You gotta speak up, dude."

"Feli didn't get a text like that." Lovino glanced across at Alfred, his face flushing deeper. Alfred stared at him blankly for a moment, then laughed loudly.

"DUDE! You're blushing!" he laughed, making Lovino glare at him. If looks could kill, Alfred would no doubt be the subject of a chalk outline in the narrow school stairwell.

Alfred noticed his thunderous expression, and tried to compose himself. In an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he said

"I get it, dude. Mattie texted you and not Feli and now you're wondering why. It's pretty simple. Mattie likes you. More than Feli. Heck, more than me, sometimes." He chuckled.

Lovino, for his part, looked torn between anger and utter shock. Alfred looked at him with concern. For once, he stayed quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice held the same gentle tone as before.

"Look, dude. Mattie's cool with everyone, you know that. But he's also the type of guy who needs his own space, you know? And guys like me, and Feli, and Leon, and Yong Soo, and, well you get the point, but we can get…well, kinda loud. But you're not. I mean you get real loud when you're mad, but you kinda blow over quick and then you're cool. Mattie gets that. So yeah, he probably texted you and not your little bro 'cause he feels closer to you than him. You get me?"

Lovino's face had softened ever so slightly, anger fading to quiet amazement.

"He…likes me more than Feli?" he asked quietly, almost wonderingly.

Alfred frowned in concern. He was not nearly as unable to read the situation as people tended to think. He knew that for all their differences, he was often the reason Matthew was so quiet, withdrawn at times. He would never tell his brother, but his own exuberance was often merely an act, a show put on in the hope that some of it would spill over to Matthew.

He stepped over to Lovino slowly, approaching him like he would a wild animal. Tentatively, he reached out an arm. When Lovino didn't appear to try and slap his hand away, he slung his arm around his shoulder.

"Hey, dude, it's ok. I didn't know it was that big of a deal for you." His face screwed up in concern. In as passive a voice as he could manage, he asked "is it really that suprising?"

Lovino glanced over, frowning. Amazingly, instead of pushing him away with his usual anger, he simply shrugged, staring at his shoes.

"No-one likes me more than Feli" he muttered.

Alfred couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. When Lovino glared at him, he stopped, smiling at him.

"You'd be surprised, dude."

When Lovino raised an eyebrow in disbelief, Alfred simply raised his arms in a helpless gesture.

"Hey, I'm not saying your little bro's bad, but ya know…" he trailed off. Lovino kept staring at him challengingly. Alfred laughed again, self-deprecatingly.

"Not everyone gets the whole happy thing, ya know? You're, like, the quiet one. When you aren't yelling, that is. I dunno, I guess people just prefer it?"

He tried to find the best way of saying it. "You're like, I dunno, the sun and moon, or whatever. Sure, Feli's always gonna chat and smile and laugh and stuff, but I guess some people find it annoying? I mean, I'm cool with it, but not everyone is. But you, you bristle and get mad and yell and stuff, but we all know you don't really mean it. It's just who you are. Sure, it was kinda a shock to get used to at first, but we're cool with it now. It's just _you_." He sighed.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is, Feli is Feli, and you're _you_. We like you both, and you balance each other out. Like me and Mattie. Or Leon and Kiku. Point is, all of us have got someone to balance us out. And I gotta say, we all kinda missed you when you got all, well, you know. But now you're back, and it's all gonna be cool again! That's what Mattie meant. If you wanna know what he meant, just call him. Dude's in France, he's gonna want to hear someone speaking normal. Even if that's you yelling at him." He grinned his usual thousand-watt beam.

"Anyway, bro. Can we go back and get lunch now? All this talking's made me real hungry."

Lovino nodded absently, silent. Alfred grinned again, relieved. "Cool. You coming or what?"

Lovino simply nodded at him, trailing after with a thoughtful expression. He slid into the seat Feli had saved for him, letting the conversation wash over him. Almost as an afterthought, he took his lunch out and munched thoughtfully, still thinking. He kept contemplating Alfred's words throughout the remainder of the lunch period, turning the words over and over. Feli tried to engage his brother in conversation, but after being shushed by Alfred, who when asked simply said that he had 'just given him a couple things to think about' he let it slide, reluctantly.

He dutifully kept his curiosity in check until the final bell rang, bounding over to Lovino immediately. As before, he barely let his brother gather his stuff before grabbing his arm in concern.

"Fratello? Are you ok? Do you not feel well? Do you wanna skip practice? It would be bad, but I'm sure coach will be ok with it if you say you're feeling bad."

Lovino's head shot up in alarm. Feliciano laughed. "Don't tell me you forgot, fratello? It's Wednesday, of course its practice!"

Lovino flushed angrily. "Of course I didn't forget, idiota. It just, slipped my mind. I was thinking about something else, alright?"

Luckily, Alfred walked over just in time to hear that. Nodding at Lovino, he took hold of Feliciano and drew him back. "Yo, time for practice! Gotta go or coach will yell at us, and man is that dude scary when he's mad."

He steered Feliciano out of the door, turning his head back to Lovino as he did so. _You cool?_ He mouthed. Lovino nodded slowly, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Alfred grinned. "Alright! Time to kick ass on the pitch!"

Lovino was not a fool. He may have, as Antonio had so bluntly put it, blown things far out of proportion, but Alfred's words had struck a deep chord in him. While he had partly withdrawn from school as a result of what he perceived to be a lack of attention, he could now see that the same was true of his return. In truth, his outbursts and disruptive attitude had had little to no effect on his classmates interest. Now, with his determination, however reluctant, to try and rebuild his behaviour, he saw that he would be welcomed back with the same indifferent attitude as if he had never left. Sure, it would obviously take a while for him to be fully accepted again, but by and large his inclusion, or lack of, made no difference to their school experience.

Strangely, it was a comforting thought. If no-one was going to treat him as an outcast, as he had secretly feared, then all he had to do was follow Antonio's instructions to keep his head down.

But here, out on the pitch, it was different. Here, he was not only noticed, but _needed_. Here, his absence, and presence, would be both noticed and not _ed_. Here, he could be a part of something. He could make a difference. He may be only taking Matthew's place, keeping his seat warm for his return, but he had a duty, a _promise_ , to fulfil that task as best he could.

He was suddenly filled with a rush of something approaching fear. What if he couldn't do it? What if the team hated him? What if he wasn't nearly as good as he thought? _What if he let down the one person who seemed to have entirely ungrouded trust in him_?

A small part of him tried to reassure him that he had already been to practice one, and it had been fine. But he hadn't really played then, just watched while Ludwig shouted orders at them and then subjected him to a stern lecture about 'doing his part for the team'. He would no doubt be on the receiving end of another today, along with a repetition of the stern warning he had already had to listen to before.

He was saved from his thoughts consuming him. Feliciano, seeing his brother's reluctance, grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him along the hallway.

"Don't worry fratello! I know Luddy seems scary, but he's really nice, I swear!"

Lovino couldn't quite hold back a glare as he saw the faint blush on his brother's cheeks, but "I bet he is" was all he muttered in a low, sarcastic tone. Feliciano seemed blind to it, however.

Once changed into their strips, they made their way out onto the field, Lovino dragging his heels somewhat. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at his seeming reluctance, but didn't comment on it.

Now that Lovino was to be part of the team, there was the slight problem of the rollcall. In the end, Ludwig decided to simply call Feliciano by his first name and Lovino by their surname, not least because the former was scatterbrained at the best of times and therefore significantly more likely to respond to his name being called.

In the end, Lovino's worry proved groundless. He _did_ have to suffer through another lecture from Ludwig, during which he barely held back his usual choice language, but managed by remembering that Ludwig was duty bound to pass on his behavioural reports to Antonio, who would then tell his grandfather, and he would receive yet another lecture. Ludwig also saw fit to embarrass him further, although probably without meaning to, by insisting on giving the team a lecture themselves on including him, citing the lack of 'inclusion fit for a cohesive team' shown during the previous practice.

Thereafter, everyone at least made a half-hearted effort to include him. It was helped somewhat by the fact that the position he was filling was Matthew's striker. More often than not, however, it was a joint effort by him and Feliciano, using a combination of Matthew's lack of presence and Feliciano's sheer enthusiasm which helped them score. Indeed, Matthew had joked that it was the only time he was glad that he was often ignored, as it meant that the opposing team quite often failed to notice him until he was almost to the goal, at which point he would either score it himself or pass it to Feliciano and allow him to make the goal.

With Lovino, however, it was less of a lack of presence and more a case of his anger and determination that ensured a deep unwillingness on anyone else's part to even try and take the ball off him. It also helped that he and Feliciano had, however much he would deny it, the kind of fluid bond that could only have come from years of knowing precisely how the other moved and consequent instinctive ability to track their movements. Matthew and Alfred were much the same (when the latter wasn't running around the pitch yelling to all that he was the 'hero' and actually paid attention), as were, to greater or lesser extent, Lukas and Emil, and Kiku, Leon and Yong Soo, although Kiku had a tendency to duck slightly whenever the ball came into anything approaching the general vicinity of his elder brother.

All things considered, the practice went rather well indeed, enough that when Ludwig finally blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, Feliciano immediately threw his arms around his brother in delight.

"You did it, Lovi! See, wasn't it fun? You're really good. Mattie's gonna be so happy!"

Lovino sincerely hoped that his brother really was as clueless as he appeared to be, and that his ever-so-faint flush was explained by the exertion of the game, and decidedly _not_ for any other reason.

Feliciano kept up a stream of praise and chatter throughout the subsequent cool-down, barely stopping once Ludwig gave Lovino gruff 'well done' and cautioned him to keep that standard up, to which he scowled, but nodded stiffly. He started again as soon as they were back in the changing room, until Lovino eventually shut him up by threatening to gag him with his own shirt. Since the item in question was now stained with a combination of grass, mud and sweat, it was enough to cower him into scared silence. He kept shooting his brother with hurt looks, however, to which Lovino only rolled his eyes and studiously ignored him.

As usual, their ingrained habits of cleanliness meant they were among the last to leave, with only Alfred leaning against the door nonchalantly waiting for them. Once they finally emerged, shirts thankfully in their bags where they belonged and not used as restraining orders, they made their way out of the building. There, Alfred ambled off in the direction of the local shop, stating that he was 'totally starving' and in dire need of a milkshake, hamburger and whatever offer McDonalds currently had. He did ask them to join him, but received the usual faint disdain the two couldn't help but show whenever fast food of any kind was mentioned in their presence.

Alfred simply laughed and waved it off, saying something about 'Europeans and their weird food hang-ups', and said he would see them tomorrow. Feliciano waved at him with his usual exuberance while simultaneously trying to walk in the other direction. Lovino rolled his eyes and grabbed him, turning him around and pushing him forwards with enough force to almost make him fall over, at which point he conceded and started walking normally.

They walked in relative silence until Feliciano's ever-present chatter could no longer be contained.

"So, what did Alfred talk to you about at lunch? It seemed really important. You were gone for almost forever!"

Lovino glared at him. "None of your business" he muttered.

Feliciano simply smirked. "Was it about Mattie?" he pressed. When Lovino didn't reply, he grinned. "It was! Ooh, was it about that text you sent me? What was it? Tell me, tell me!"

Lovino started walking faster, speeding up. Feliciano simply increased his own pace to match, seemingly not out of breath in the slightest. "Fratello" he whined. "Tell meeee. What did Mattie say? You seemed upset, and you're never upset." He stared sideways at Lovino, eyes pleading.

Eventually, to his surprise, it worked. Lovino stopped suddenly and whirled to face him, face flushed.

"He said he missed me, ok? And it was a surprise. Now shut up, you nosy bastard."

Feliciano did. For a moment. Then, he bounced back, clapping delightedly. "Of course Mattie misses you. You're his best friend. Everyone missed you!"

Lovino shot him a glare, keeping walking. After a while he turned back slightly. "best friend?" he muttered. Feliciano grinned, nodding. "Uh-huh. Mattie isn't really close with anyone else, but he really missed you when you played hookey and stuff. He was worried about you."

Lovino shot him a decidedly disbelieving look. Feliciano grinned happily.

"Do you miss him too?" he asked slyly.

Lovino's angry sputtering and flushed face was all the answer he needed.

They walked the rest of the way in relatively companionable silence. Roma was already home by the time they reached the door, waiting for them with a smile. Unlike Feliciano, he waited until they were both changed out of their uniform and sat on the coach with mugs and snacks before he started questioning them.

"So. How did it go?"

He directed the question to Lovino, who looked up from contemplation of his cup. His face was pensive, which Roma took as a good sign.

"Ok" he answered.

Roma sighed, raising an eyebrow. Lovino looked down again, shrugging. "Good."

"Good. Ok, we're getting there. Anything else?"

Lovino glanced over to Feliciano, pointedly. Roma sighed again. "Fine. Feli, could you maybe go upstairs while I drag the answers out of your brother?"

Feliciano grinned and hopped off the coach. "Lovi, make sure you tell him everything!" he quipped. Lovino waited until his steps had faded and he heard the soft sound of his bedroom door shutting, then turned back to Roma, who sat looking at him with a calm, patient expression. Lovino felt his face flush, the barest hint of a faint smile rising to his lips.

He recounted the events of the day dutifully, if hesitantly in places. He stumbled slightly when he recounted the matter of the text, feeling foolish now that he was telling his grandfather. To his relief, Roma made no move to mock him. Rather, he smiled gently, placing a hand on his head and ruffling his hair gently. Lovino moved away out of reflex, then grudgingly relaxed.

"I'm very proud of you, Lovi. You know that, si?"

Lovino looked up at him tentatively, then nodded. "Si. Thank you, Nonno."

Roma blinked in confusion. "For what, Lovi?"

Lovino flushed deeply. "F-for not making fun" he said, haltingly.

Roma's confusion turned to tenderness. He got up and sat next to Lovino, drawing him into a deep hug.

"I would never make fun of you, Lovi. You have done so much already." He thought for a moment, stroking Lovino's head tenderly. "But, tell me something, Lovi." He let go, making Lovino look up at him warily.

"Was it really that surprising that your friend would tell you they miss you? Or that all your other friends would accept you back?" Roma sounded strangely worried. Lovino shrugged.

"I didn't expect it" he said, finally. "I suppose I thought…" he trailed off, flushing. Roma smiled.

"Lovi, look at me."

He did so, reluctantly.

"You thought that they would not care? Or worse, that they would reject you?"

Lovino frowned, looking away. The stiff posture of his head was enough to make Roma grab him in an embrace again.

"Oh, Lovi. You really have not changed since you were a bambino. Still so quick so believe the worst in people, let alone yourself. Just give yourself some credit here, hey? You aren't _that_ unlikeable."

Lovino looked at him doubtfully.

Roma grinned. "Ok, you are a little touchy. But that is part of your charm! You're a little present. You have built a shell around yourself and convinced yourself that no one cares for you. You need to take a step forward and see that you have a lot of friends. Just try and let them, ok?"

He grinned hopefully at Lovino, who rolled his eyes and sank further into the coach. Roma simply laughed and ruffled his hair again, earning a muttered outrage from Lovino.

Standing up, Roma walked over to the kitchen, then turned back to Lovino. As if sensing that the conversation was over, Feliciano came bounding back down the stairs.

"Are you done? I don't wanna wait anymore, I'm hungry, nonno. Can we cook yet, please? Please?"

Roma grinned again, grabbing Feliciano and putting him in a headlock playfully. Feliciano gave a cry of mock distress, then flung his arms around his grandfather. Lovino snorted scornfully at them, making them both turn to him and stick their tongues out at him. They both laughed, making Lovino turn away in disgust. He made the mistake of getting up to go to his room, however.

"Oh no you don't!" Roma grabbed him playfully, drawing him into the hug.

"Yay, hug! Hug!" Feliciano chanted. Lovino rolled his eyes, but put up with his brother's gleeful embrace. They stood like that for a moment, until Roma let go and set them both at arms length.

"My handsome grandsons. I'm so proud of you both." He smiled. "Everything's gonna be ok."

He smiled at Lovino, who, for once, met his gaze with a tiny, hopeful smile of his own.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

A/N this chapter is shorter than normal, and rather boring, but needs must for exposition. I'll try and get to something more exciting soon. As to the delay, that is entirely my fault for getting distracted with other ideas.

* * *

 **(L)** _ **Everything's going ok, I guess**_ **.** _ **What about you?**_

Matthew stared at his phone, trying to word a reply that wouldn't be quite a lie. He was overjoyed that Lovino had responded to his texts, was even happier that he had told him about his sessions with Antonio and the games, but when it came to a reply, he was rather lost.

There was nothing exactly _wrong_ , after all. He was surrounded by family, he had been to Paris (Paris! He still couldn't quite believe it), he was slowly (or was it quickly?) learning to accept Francis as his father. He should have been happy, and yet he wasn't.

The truth of why he had come all this way lingered heavily in his mind. The words that no-one dared to say hung unspoken in the air. He still hadn't met with the one person he was supposed to see, the person for whom Francis had risked all and reached out to him.

 _You're just waiting for her to die_.

Matthew honestly didn't know what to think about his grandmother. He was sad, of course, but in the sense of knowing that a life was drawing to close. He had only been formally introduced to her once, and saw her sometimes at dinner, where she sat at the head of the table opposite his grandfather, surveying the room with a gentle, imperious smile and occasionally cautioning the older cousins when they got a bit too rowdy.

But he had yet to be called to see her. Francis had said she wanted to wait until she felt a little better, which Matthew didn't quite understand. He would have seen her at any time, she was his family, after all, but he accepted her wishes, and waited.

He bit his lip, looking down at the phone again. He started typing.

 **(M) I'm alright.**

He hit send, already feeling the guilt of the lie.

His phone buzzed with a reply almost immediately, despite the time difference.

 _ **(L) No you're not, idiota.**_

Matthew smiled. Lovino could tell when another person was lying, of course he could. He did it so often himself, how could he not?

His phone buzzed again. Two words stood out on the screen, blinding in their innocence.

 **(L)** _**Tell me?**_

He stared at the screen, shocked. Lovino _had_ said that he would listen to Matthew if he needed, but he must be in an extraordinarily good mood if he was actually prepared to offer it.

Matthew's hands hovered over the screen, wondering how to reply. Eventually, he decided to go for brute honesty.

 **(M)** **It's strange, that's all. I'm waiting for someone to die, and I don't even know them.**

 **(L)** _ **Your nonna? Have you even met her yet?**_

 **(M) When I first got here. But not on my own. At dinner. She gets annoyed at my cousins for being loud. Mostly she has dinner in her room. She barely leaves it now.**

 **(L) Good thing your brother isn't there then. He's nothing but loud.**

Matthew laughed softly at that.

 **(M) True! But that aside, it's just…strange. What do I do when I talk to her? What am I supposed to say? 'Hello, my name's Matthew, I'm the grandson you've never met, I'm only here because my father thinks I should meet you before you die?'**

He hesitated for a long time before hitting send.

 **(L) I can't really say anything. Nonna died when we were very little, so I don't remember her much. Just be nice. She's your nonna, she's old and ill. She just wants to see you. Then you can come back, yeah?**

Matthew smiled tiredly. He could imagine Lovino frowning deeply, biting his lip as he wondered how to reply, his typical anger warring with the politeness that he only showed to women. The last line was tacked on as an afterthought, no doubt, a way of reasserting himself, trying not to show any hint of care.

 **(M) Thanks, Lovino. I'm sorry about your grandmother. Hopefully this will all be over soon and I can come home. I don't mean that badly, of course! I just want to come back, you know?**

 **(L) of course. and thanks. It was years ago though. We were back in Italy then. I barely remember anything.**

 **(M) What was it like? Italy, I mean.**

 **(L)? what do mean, jerk? Italian. Pasta, tomatoes, hot. Didn't rain like it does here, not as much. Lots of fields. A big house, but I don't remember it much. Feli remembers it more than me, for some reason. Ask him.**

 **(M) Really? It sounds wonderful.**

 **(L) I suppose.**

They messaged for a while longer, although Lovino was evidently growing bored with the conversation, his replies becoming shorter and shorter until Matthew made some excuse about it getting late and not wanting Lovino to stay up on a school night. He received a rather rude reply, followed by a customary good night as though Lovino had pressed send without really thinking.

Matthew replied in kind, then sat back on his bed. He tossed his phone onto the covers, thinking.

A soft knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to see Francis standing with a look of faint concern.

"Matthieu? Are you alright? It is late, you should be in bed by now. is there something wrong?"

Matthew hesitated, then decided to tell his father. He opened the door wider, then turned and walked over to the bed. Francis picked up on the hint, and after shutting the door behind him, he sat beside his son. Matthew looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. This was becoming a habit, he thought.

Francis waited until Matthew was ready to speak.

"It's my grandmother" he said finally.

Francis' nodded once, immediately understanding. Cautiously, he lifted his arm and placed it around his son's shoulder. When Matthew didn't draw away, he looked down at him and said quietly,

"It will be soon, don't worry. She Is, to be honest, scared, that is all."

Matthew lifted his head, confused. "Scared? Why?"

Francis frowned slightly. "It is hard to explain. You see, she blamed me very harshly for leaving you, as she should have. She wanted me to go straight back to America and bring you home, here, to live with us. She has never quite forgiven me for refusing, I think." He took a deep breath, his mouth quirking and brows drawing together as if in pain. He spoke the next words slowly, not looking at Matthew.

"I…did not tell her that you were coming. I kept it to myself, thinking that it would be better to hide it from her until I was sure. You see, I was so scared that you would refuse to come, that you would want nothing to do with me, that I thought it best to wait. So I held my tongue, and I did not tell her until I knew that you would be willing to meet me.

When I did tell her, she was so happy. She was so happy that she would finally meet her adorable grandson. She is so proud of you Mattieu. She wants so much to see you and talk to you, to get to know you." His eyes began to fill with tears, seemingly unconsciously.

"She knows, I think, that she does not have long. but still, she is scared to meet you. she has built you up to her image, and she does not want to shatter that. She is worried for you, Matthieu."

Matthew looked at his father in confusion. "I don't understand. Why would she be worried for me?"

Francis smiled sadly at him. "Because she loves you" he said. "She is not worried _about_ you, as such. Perhaps I said that wrong. I mean that she is worried what you will think of her."

Matthew's face showed his surprise. "Think of her? Why would she worry about that? I'm sorry, papa, but I really don't understand." His face fell as he thought. Then, slowly, his eyes brightened, and he gasped softly. "oh, I see", he murmured.

He suddenly understood. His grandmother was old. To have lived her life with her husband, her son, her nieces and nephews, would have been enough. To be told that she has a grandson that she had never met, never seen, barely even knew existed, would have been hard to bear. And now Matthew was here, come to see her, and everyone knew, without saying, the reason why?

He felt a flash of guilt over his earlier thought. _It isn't_ me _waiting for her to die. It's_ her. To know that she did not have long, that her life was slowly but surely drawing to a close, must to terrifying. She _was_ scared to meet him. Who wouldn't be, in her situation? Matthew was young, his whole life ahead of him. She was old, made thin and pale with illness and the weight of her years. What would he think, meeting her for the first time at the end of her life, at a time filled not with happiness and laughter and the promise of days to come, but pain, and sadness, and the regret of time not spent together? From what he knew, she had already accepted her fate, and was ready to meet it calmly, but that in no way lessened the pain that meeting him would surely bring.

He blinked away a sudden rush of tears. Francis, seeing his face, drew his arms tighter around him. "Matthieu? Matthieu? What is wrong? Don't cry, _mon Cherie._ "

Matthew tried to smile through his tears. "I'm ok. I just understand, that's all. I'm sorry. I get it now. Please, tell her that I won't think anything bad. I really want to see her. I want to talk to her."

Francis smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I'll talk to her in the morning. I can't promise anything, but I am sure she will be very happy to know that. Now, you should sleep." He drew away slightly and stood up.

Matthew nodded. "ok. Thank you, papa."

Francis quirked a smile. He looked down at Matthew, sadness and nostalgia warring across his face.

"papa? What's wrong?"

Francis came back to himself, and shook his head. "Nothing. I was just remembering something."

Matthew looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I used to tuck you in at night, when you were very little" Francis replied sadly. "Your mother would pick you up and rock you in her arms, then we would lay you down in your cot and she or I would sing to you until you fell asleep. I cannot forget that. I _will_ never forget that." His gaze was distant, his voice almost a whisper. "She loved you so much, Mattieu. So very, very much."

He looked up suddenly. "But you are too old for that now. So I will say goodnight, and have nothing but sweet dreams." He pressed a kiss to Matthew's forehead, then turned and walked out the room softly, closing the door as he went.

Matthew stared at the door for a long time after he had left, thinking. It was strange, he thought. Each person in the house had their own reason to be there, each a member of the family in some way or another. Some lived there permanently, with their own rooms and lives, some were merely guests, moving in and out interchangeably, with their own lives lived elsewhere.

And then there was him, thrust into this to upset the peaceful balance. What did the others think of him, he wondered? Lively, sweet Michelle he had got along with immediately, and he did not have to question Francis' feelings for him for a moment. But what of the others? The cousins, the aunts and uncles, his grandfather, his grandmother. To them, he was a complete stranger. Did they consider him to be no more than another guest, a boy who would stay for a while and inevitably leave again? Or was he some golden boy, the prodigal son of the household, the heir apparent, as Michelle had so abruptly told him? He didn't quite know which was worse.

Either way, he was here, and he was determined to make the best of it. He would have to wait for Francis to speak to his mother in the morning. She was normally an early riser, but illness and age had taken their toll, and there was now no telling what she would be like in the morning. She wished to see him on a better day, to make their meeting more favourable. Matthew could not begrudge her that, no matter that he would not care what she looked like. He just wanted to see the grandmother he had never met. But the least he could do was bow to her wishes, to grant her this small happiness.

He got ready for bed and settled down, and was soon asleep. He would see what tomorrow would bring when it came.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

As before, the next day dawned bright and sunny. This was now the fifth day since his arrival. Surely he would be allowed to see her today, right?

He dressed quickly, making sure to appear a little smarter than his usual clothes. In place of his normal red hoodie and jeans, he had decided to wear a chequered shirt and a pair of pressed trousers than Francis had bought him. They felt a little tight and different to his comfy denim, but he decided in this case appearances were definitely more important than comfort.

It seemed he had made the right choice, as Francis gave him an approving smile when he got to the table for breakfast. He smiled back tentatively, his eyes questioning. Discreetly, Francis waved a hand at him. _Wait and see_. Matthew nodded imperceptibly.

He slid into the seat next to Michelle, who was up early for once. "What was that about?" she asked, smiling.

Matthew shot a glance to Francis, who bowed his head, indicating that it was alright to tell her.

"I've been hoping to talk to our grandmother, but she apparently keeps saying she doesn't want to see me. So I'm hoping today she'll be feeling well enough to want to talk."

Michelle nodded. "I see. _Grandmamma_ has good days and bad days. I think she was so worried and excited for you to come that now you are here she is, umm, worked up? Is that what you call it?"

Matthew nodded. "I understand. I don't mind. I'll wait as long as it takes."

They finished breakfast, chatting aimlessly. Francis sat opposite them, sipping a cup of coffee and occasionally replying or commenting.

Matthew couldn't help staring at the clock. Nine o'clock passed, then ten. The huge grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour, each ringing throughout the house.

The doctor came just after the clock had chimed 11. Michelle had taken Matthew out of the house to stop him worrying. All he saw was a tall back and dark hair as the man entered the house.

They spent the next hour wandering around the garden, going down to the lake again and paddling in the soft sand at the edge. Neither of them spoke much, both caught up in their own thoughts.

They crept back into the house when hunger forced them to, just as the clock was striking midday. As before, they sat at the table quietly, barely speaking. Both were listening hard for any sounds that could give a hint as to what was going on upstairs.

The doctor came back down at half past twelve. They heard Francis talking to him quietly, then the sound of the door closing. They held their breath, waiting until the sound of the car drawing away had fully faded.

Francis came through into the kitchen, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He didn't seem to notice the two teens staring at him worriedly.

Matthew was the one to break the silence. "Papa?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Francis looked over at them, his face surprised. "Oh, Matthieu, Michelle." He took a deep breath. "I suppose you have been waiting for the news, yes?"

They simply stared back at him, waiting. He sighed.

"I cannot really say much. She is much the same. The prognosis has not changed."

He looked at them both seriously. "I will not soften this for you both. She is dying. But you knew this. It is only a matter of time. We can do what we can, obviously, but even with medicine the most we can do is make her comfortable and keep her as happy as possible. It-it will not be long now, I think."

He turned away from them for a moment. Michelle's hand reached out slowly, gripping Matthew's, who clutched hers tightly. Somehow, seeing Francis lose his composure suddenly made it all the more real, in the way that an adult's tears always scared a child. They shot a glance at each other.

Michelle's eyes were bright with tears, but she tried not to show it. "H-how long?" she whispered.

Francis turned back to them, trying to keep his face smooth. "A month, two perhaps. That is all." He swallowed harshly. "I believe she was waiting for Mattieu, as I told him last night. She loves you both very much."

He looked to his son, his gaze boring into Matthew. "She wants to see you."

Matthew stared back at him, not quite believing. "Really?"

Francis nodded. "Oui. Wait a few hours, until she has eaten and rested. I expect she will call for you at around 3 o'clock."

Matthew nodded, dazed. He smiled slightly, relieved. Michelle clutched his hand tightly, then hugged him. They stood for a moment, Francis walking over and wrapping his arms around them both. A single tear ran down his cheek, but he made sure to hide it from the two. They did not need to see that, after all. He had to be strong, for them.

Matthew spent the next few hours in a daze. He tried to read, play a few games on his phone, but couldn't make his attention stay on anything. Time seemed to drag on, stretched out in the way it always seemed to when waiting for something. Eventually, however, Francis showed up at his room.

"She is ready now. Come on, quickly."

Matthew stood up hurriedly, smoothing his shirt down and running a comb through his hair. "Do I look alright?" he asked worriedly.

Francis smiled softly. "Of course. There is no need to worry. You look wonderful. Now, let's go."

Francis led him to her wing of the house, an area he had left out when giving Matthew the original tour.

He was shown into a small room. He could immediately tell it was hers, from the patterned wallpaper to the jar of roses on the dressing table, the scent filling the room with a gentle perfume. The windows were open a little, just enough to let a hint of the summer breeze into the room for a breath of air.

His grandmother was sitting in a chair facing the window, allowing her to look out over the garden. Francis led him forward, a steadying hand on his back.

" _Maman._ He is here. Matthieu, this is your grandmother."

Matthew stepped forward to stand in front of her, his hands twisting together nervously. Then he looked into her face, and all his worries fell away.

Even with the illness, her beauty was still apparent. The soft lines and wrinkles of her face did not detract from her stature, but added a wonderful sense of having _lived_ , of a life of love and laughter. There was a certain strength that showed she would have been a formidable woman in her youth, and that strength was no less diminished now.

She was dressed in an elegant skirt and cardigan, a light blanket arranged delicately over her legs to ward off any chill. Although thin, she still sat tall and straight, her manner proud and elegant. Matthew could see her as she was then, willowy and slender, the same figure he saw in Francis.

She returned his gaze with an equally strong one of her own, taking in every detail of his face. They stared at each other for a long moment. Her eyes darted between him and Francis, comparing them. Eventually, she smiled, her face lighting up.

"You are definitely one of us" she said, her voice heavily accented. "You must forgive me, my English is a little rusty."

Matthew shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry I don't speak much French. Michelle is teaching me, and Papa."

She smiled. "Michelle is such a good girl. But this is about you. Come, come forward. Let me see you."

Matthew stepped closer, then, drawn forward, knelt down in front of her. She reached out to him, and he closed the distance, allowing her to take his hands. She stroked her thin, pale fingers along the back of his hands.

One hand reached up slowly, shakily, to run along his cheek. He couldn't stop a tear running down his cheek, and she shushed him.

"Oh, no, don't cry. Don't cry. You are so handsome, Matthieu. You have grown up so well. I could not have asked for more in my only grandson."

Matthew smiled through his tears. "I'm very happy to see you, too, Grandmother."

She made a sound of annoyance. "Please, darling, not so stuffy. Call me Grandmamma, like Michelle does. Or I think you say Grandma, nanny maybe?"

" _Grandmamma."_ Matthew tried to say it the way Michelle did, rolling the sound softly. It was obviously right, as she laughed softly.

"That is better. Oh, Francis, why did you keep him from me for so long?"

Francis opened his mouth to reply, stepping forward, but she waved him away. "I do not want an answer. I do not blame you, you had your reasons. At least I am getting to meet you now. Come, tell me everything. What is America like? I should have liked to visit, you know, but somehow we never found the time. I want to know everything about you."

Matthew gladly complied, telling her everything of his life, his childhood with Alfred and their mother, then the move to England when they were little. He told her about the team, about Feliciano and Lovino and everyone else. He left out the details of Lovino's troubles at school, simply saying that he was less open than this brother (which was perfectly true, after all).

They talked for hours, Francis translating occasionally when needed. Soon, however, she began to tire, her voice becoming rough and hoarse. Matthew stopped speaking, realising that she was tiring and needed rest.

"Come here, Matthieu" she said. He leant forward, and she reached out slowly to embrace him.

He leant into the embrace. Weak though her hold was, he could tell that she was trying to convey all her love for him, making up for all the years they had missed together. He felt tears come to his eyes, his mind flashing with images of how it would have been to grow up here. Every hug, every touch, every little comfort for pain or tears. He hugged her back tightly, but carefully.

Francis made sure she didn't need anything, then ushered him out.

"She will sleep now. You have made her very happy, Matthieu. Thank you."

Matthew smiled, a tear running down his face. He wiped it away with his sleeve. "I'm just glad I got to talk to her for so long."

Francis smiled at him, giving him a quick hug. "You have made such a difference simply by being here, I know that. The next few weeks will not be easy on you, I fear. Just…do your best, _mon petit_. That is all any of us can do."

Matthew took his father's words to heart. It seemed that with that first meeting, all awkwardness had fallen away. He spent many hours with his grandmother, pouring over her many photo albums. Most were of her, the family, the house, Paris and its' landmarks, as well as newer collections of his cousins; at school, graduations and family visits.

To his utter shock, she also had a few pictures of his mother. Some were of her and Francis, pictures from their wedding, as well as of their first year together. Then, tucked away with all the rest, were a collection of pictures that rendered him speechless.

There, in grainy, small polaroid, were his parents. Young, happy, besotted with each other. And with him. One, a tiny baby, the back labelled as being the day he was brought home from the hospital. Another, a few months old, cradled in his mother's arms. She was beaming with happiness, laughing down at him with a mother's love. More of him with both his mother and Francis, of being carried, then beginning to smile, to crawl, and eventually, to walk.

But it was not that that made his breath catch in his throat.

Tucked among all the others was a strip, showing stills taken from a home video.

He was sitting at a table with his parents, one on either side. A cake sat on the table in front of them, a single candle pressed in the middle. His small, childish face was drawn in fierce concentration as he blew it out. In the next, he was looking up at his mother, his face alight with joy. Next to that, they hugged him tightly, all three of the caught in a moment of perfect happiness.

He turned it over, his hand shaking slightly. There, in perfect handwriting, were the words _Matthew's first birthday. Our little boy, a whole year old!_

A selection of cards accompanied the photos. He looked through them all, scanning each one eagerly. Many were from family and friends, each wishing him a happy birthday, some with little messages of love or jokes.

He got to the last of the pile. There, preserved in its' own laminated pocket, was a small, handmade card. It was red, decorated with a cut-out of a teddy bear holding a large candle 1. The bear had a speech bubble coming out of its' mouth, proclaiming a Happy Birthday! In large bubble letters.

He opened it with shaking hands. The card was filled with her writing, small, curved and perfect.

 _My darling Matthew,_

 _Happy birthday! You are now a whole year old. Where on earth has the time gone? It seems that only yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time. So much has happened this year! It has been, without doubt, the best year of my life. You are my perfect little boy, and I cannot describe how much I love you. You have grown so much during this year, and learnt so much. I have seen you begin to crawl, walk and even start to talk! Your first word was papa, by the way. Not mama, but I don't mind. Your daddy is so handsome, I'm glad you love him just as much as I do! He is reading this over my shoulder, and talking to you in a silly voice. He's a silly papa, isn't he? Ah, there, see, you giggled at him. Yes, silly papa! But perfect all the same. Our perfect little family._

 _I love you so much, Matthew. Once again, Happy birthday. One down, and many, many more to go! I can only hope we spend all of them as happily as we have this one._

 _From mama and Papa, who love you so very, very, very much._

Matthew was silent for a long time after reading the last words. He barely noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks.

His grandmother reached across the table they sat at, gripping his hand with surprising strength.

"She loved you so very much, Matthieu. Never forget that."

He couldn't help a sobbing laugh. "I know. It's just…" he shook his head, unable to find the words. Instead, he stood up, walking over to her and kneeling down. He drew his arms around her, burying his face in her lap.

"Thank you. thank you so much, grandmamma."

She stroked his hair softly. "It is nothing. They belong to you, after all."

He raised his head, his face incredulous. "What?"

She laughed softly, sadly. "I want you to have them now. I wanted you to see them now, while we are together. I did not want to wait until I am gone."

She picked up one of the pictures. Francis was obviously the photographer.

Madeline was laughing at the camera, her face young and bright with happiness. She had a bright red scarf around her neck, and a matching bobble hat covering her long hair, a little curlier than his own, and a shade redder.

"She was so beautiful. I only met her once, at the wedding. She was so lovely, so sweet. I was so worried when Francis told me had met a girl he wished to marry. I wondered for so long, what would she be like? Would she be good enough? Would she make him happy? And then he showed me this picture of her, and I knew. I knew she would be perfect for him. And she was."

A single tear fell down her cheek, landing on Matthew's soft hair.

By some remarkable coincidence, Francis chose that moment to enter the room, carrying a tray of drinks and snacks. His gaze went immediately to the pictures and cards strewn across the table. He saw what Matthew held so carefully in his hands, and he could not stop the tears form forming in his eyes. Matthew looked up at him, his own eyes bright.

"I wish I could have known her" he said.

"I know" Francis replied. "So do I."

He set the tray down carefully, and walked over, embracing them both. "I love you so very, very much."

"I love you too, Papa. Grandmamma. I love you." He could not say it enough. The words hung in the room, and for a moment he could pretend that his mother was there too, completing the family.

They sat like that for a while, grandmother, son and grandson simply sharing in each other's company. The weight of what was to come sat heavy in the air, and yet for this moment, it was forgotten. They were here, and they were together. For how long did not matter.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 **A/N: This chapter deals with the death of a family member. You may want to skip to the next if this is a sensitive topic.**

* * *

The end, when it came, was peaceful. A little over a week later, Matthew woke to Francis shaking him gently, and his face told him all he needed to know. He followed his father down the hall to his grandmother's room, and entered slowly.

She lay as though asleep, her face smooth and calm. For that, Matthew was incredibly grateful. She had spent her last moments not in pain, but slipped away quietly and unaware.

He looked up at Francis, unsure.

"Go on" his father said gently.

Matthew drew his brow, but stepped forward until he stood beside her bed. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on his grandmother's forehead. Her skin still held a touch of warmth, showing that the end had come just before dawn, as it so often did.

He stood up, staring at the pale face. Her arms lay beside her; whether already like that or carefully arranged by Francis, he didn't know. Either way, she looked infinitely peaceful. Without the lines of pain and weariness, she looked years younger. Although her face was still lined with age, death had softened them, giving her a faintly angelic look. Now he could truly see how beautiful she must have been in her youth, smiling and laughing in happiness.

Matthew wasn't sure what he believed in, if anything, but he hoped that she was at peace. She had worn a small cross, and so he silently prayed that she was where she had hoped to be.

Tears filled his eyes suddenly. He stepped back, Francis immediately drawing his arms around him, turning him into his chest. He rubbed Matthew's blond locks comfortingly.

Matthew leaned into the embrace for a while. Then, looking up, he asked quietly, "So what happens now?"

Francis looked down at him, and shook his head slightly. "Nothing. For now, we will go and have breakfast, and I must let everyone know. I expect I will be spending most of the day on the phone, and I will have to inform the solicitor as soon as possible."

Matthew nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

Francis' face softened. "Of a sort. If you would, stay with Michelle. She will no doubt take this very hard. I think it would be of great comfort to her to be with you, rather than surrounded by adults. Perhaps you two would like to spend the day in town, to take your minds off it all?"

"Alright. Does she…?" he trailed off, not wanting to finish.

"Oui. She has already been here. I believe she is downstairs now. Get dressed and have breakfast, and then I will take you two into town. I will need to go to various places anyway, so I will drop you two off. Is that alright?"

Matthew nodded. He did as his father said, dressing quickly and going downstairs.

He found Michelle sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes red and tears running down her face. Her hair was unbound, flowing down around her shoulders in long waves. She was still in her pyjamas, evidently having come straight downstairs after seeing their grandmother.

She didn't notice Matthew enter the room. Guessing that she hadn't eaten, he quickly gathered some food and walked over to the table, drawing out a chair and sitting down.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked quietly.

Michelle turned her head to him slowly. Seeing the spread on the table, she shook her head mutely.

Matthew pressed on. "Please, eat something. It'll do you good."

She sighed. "I'm not hungry" she whispered.

"I know. I'm not really either. But we need to eat something." Somehow, he felt that talking to her normally was the best thing he could do right now.

Michelle sighed again. Leaning forward slightly, she picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite. It seemed to awaken her hunger, since she finished it and another before sitting back and resuming staring out the window. Matthew ate in silence, not knowing what to say.

"What do I do now?" Michelle suddenly asked. Matthew lifted his head, staring at her.

Tears streamed down her face, unchecked. She looked, not upset, but terrified. Matthew simply stared, clueless as to what she was so afraid of.

"Where will I go?" she whispered. "What will I do now? She was all I had left. Now I don't have anyone."

Matthew suddenly realised what she meant. He stood up quickly and ran upstairs, frantic. He searched the rooms until he found Francis.

"Papa, you have to talk to Michelle. Please, she's crying and I don't know what to say to her." His voice was rushed, words stumbling over one another. Francis turned to him, surprised.

"What is wrong? Please, Matthieu, calm down. What did you say?"

Matthew repeated himself. Francis' eyes went wide in understanding. "Oui, I see. _Mon dieu_ , but she has worked herself up. I will go and talk to her. Don't worry, Matthieu. We are all a little worked up at the moment. Please, give us a few minutes alone. Perhaps you would like to call one of your friends?" he asked.

Matthew realised what Francis meant by that, and nodded. "Okay."

Francis smiled. "Merci, Matthieu." He pressed a quick kiss to Matthew's head, then left the room. Matthew heard his footsteps fading down the stairs. He stood in the room for a moment, then left to his own room.

Taking out his phone, he waited for it to start up. Once the familiar home screen lit up, he checked the time to make sure, then entered a quick text and hit send hurriedly.

 **(M):** **Can we talk?**

He received a reply a few moments later.

 **(L): Oh, it's you. What's up?**

 **(M): I just need someone to talk to. Is now a good time?**

 **(L): I suppose.**

Taking the lead, Matthew pressed 'call'. Lovino answered a moment later, his voice annoyed.

" _What is this about, you stupid maple lover?"_

Matthew almost laughed, but the sound caught in his throat.

"You said before that you would talk if I needed it. Well, I do now. She's gone." His voice hitched.

For a moment, the line was silent. Then, his voice much lower, and rid of any of his usual anger, Lovino answered.

" _Mi dispiace, molto, Matteo. Condoglianze."_

Matthew did not need to understand Italian to know the meaning of the words. In that, grief was universal, and he was grateful for it.

"Thank you, Lovi. That means a lot." He took a deep breath. "It was peaceful, at least. She was asleep."

He could tell Lovino was, for once, thinking before he spoke.

" _So, what happens now?"_

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I've never been to a funeral before, so I don't know how long it will be. Papa said he needs to phone people, like the solicitor and I suppose a funeral director. I don't really know much about how all this works. We're going into town today though, so he can sort things out. He's taking us out to take our minds off it, he says."

A pause. " _H-how are you, then?"_

Matthew kept back a strange desire to laugh. "I'm not sure. I hate to say it, but I feel sort of numb. Like, I don't know." He walked over to the door and made sure it was shut, that there was no way his voice would be heard, no matter that he was speaking English.

However, Lovino seemed to catch what he meant.

" _You feel like since you haven't known her long, you don't have the right to grieve as much as your family because they have loved her more than you. Then you are upset for feeling that way, since you_ _ **don't**_ _feel as bad as they do. Then it becomes a stupid muddle of anger and grief and confusion and you feel totally messed up and you don't know what to say. Is that about right?"_

As usual, the Italian's bluntness had somehow cut straight to the heart of it. This time, Matthew couldn't hold back a choked laugh.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said.

" _I've been through it"_ was all Lovino replied.

Matthew felt tears come to his eyes. His voice wobbling, he asked "Does it get better?"

" _After a while. I won't lie, the funeral is gonna be the worst. Everyone standing around in black crying and hugging each other. I don't know if it will be the same, but generally the priest says a bunch of stuff about how wonderful they were, and all that crap, then a couple of people do speeches to say the same thing. Then you have the ceremony, cremation or burial or whatever, then maybe a wake or service with a bunch of food and drink and everyone saying how great they were again. And through it all people are trying not to cry and say stuff about 'focusing on their life, not the death' and all that crap."_

He was silent for a while, and Matthew waited, sensing there was more. Eventually, Lovino spoke again, his voice flat and quiet.

" _Just let yourself feel whatever you want. Some people deal with grief by being really loud and crying and making a fuss, and some withdraw into themselves. It isn't anyone else's business which you are, or if you're not. You should be allowed to feel whatever the hell you feel like, and don't let anyone else tell you how to feel. And-"_ he stopped suddenly. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued;

" _No matter how annoying it is, or whatever, just let people deal with it in their own way. You're gonna get a ton of people hugging you and stuff, but just let them. It's their way of giving comfort, no matter how stupid it feels."_

Matthew listened to all of this in silence. He suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for the other teen. Lovino's words may have been harsh, blunt, but he was speaking from his own experience. Matthew could only imagine what he and Feliciano must have gone through. To lose his grandmother after such a short time was bad enough, but to have lost their mother, at such a young age?

Thinking on that, he realised that Lovino's harsh, unflinching personality was very likely as a result of that early grief. Surrounded by adults who no doubt showered them with sympathy and false concern could not have been easy. Lovino had never told him the details, and so he knew nothing of what they had gone through. Much as he might want to know, he would not ask, knowing it was up to Lovino to tell him if he wished.

Instead, he thanked him.

" _What for?"_

"For saying that. I'm sorry if this brings up memories. Really. Please don't say anything if you don't want to."

He heard Lovino scoff, but quietly.

" _I said it before, didn't I? If you wanna talk, talk. You can't change the past, so don't whine about it. Besides-"_ He cut himself off, sharply.

Matthew frowned, unsure. Lovino sighed deeply.

" _I'm only gonna say this once, so listen. My mother would have wanted me to say this, so I'm gonna say it."_

He took a deep breath, as if readying himself.

" _You can yell or cry or swear or whatever. You think you're a pushover, and to be honest you are sometimes. But now, for however long it takes for everything, it doesn't matter. Grief is hard. It makes you feel like shit. Some days you just wanna go to sleep and never wake up because maybe then they can be there in your dreams and when you do wake up it won't have happened. But it has and you have to deal with it. But you're not alone. Me and Feli had nonno, you have your father and your cousin, hell, call that guy you saw before and rant at him. Point is, its happened and she's not coming back. Deal with it however you want. I'm never gonna judge. I promise."_

Matthew blinked back tears. For a long time, he simply stared at the floor, unseeing.

" _Matteo? Oy, jerk, don't start bawling on me. I only said what I wanted someone to tell me. Don't go getting all weird on me."_

That brought him out of it, and made him chuckle lightly. "Thanks. I'm sorry."

" _Shut up, jerk"_ he replied, not without affection. Then, suddenly, _"Oh, crap, is that the time? Damn, it's stupid club practice in an hour. I gotta get ready for a stupid practice match."_

Matthew perked up at that. "Oh, how's it going?"

Lovino muttered something under his breath. " _It isn't a total failure. I still hate it, but it doesn't totally suck, I suppose. I still hate the macho potato bastard but at least he's not a total jerk bastard for a coach. And Feli is too damn infatuated with him for me to yell at him."_

"Oh, is he?" Matthew couldn't help but smirk.

" _Don't give me that, bastard. He's a damn stupid potato loving bastard and I wouldn't let my little brother anywhere near him if I had the choice! So you better hurry up and come back here and maybe the little idiot will listen to you instead 'cuz he sure as hell ain't listening to me!"_

That made Matthew laugh. It felt good to simply chat with someone like this. It helped take his mind off everything. When Lovino swore again, saying he really would be late if he didn't go, they said goodbye, Matthew promising to talk to everyone again later. He hung up, sitting back on the bed. He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. To his surprise, they had been talking for over half an hour. Francis had no doubt finished talking to Michelle, and they were likely waiting for him.

Hurriedly, he went downstairs again.

"I'm sorry, papa. I lost track of time."

Francis looked up from where he had been kneeling in front of Michelle. His hands still held hers gently, and his face looked like he had shed tears as well.

"It's quite all right, Matthieu. Were you talking to your friend?"

Matthew nodded.

"That's good." He turned back to Michelle, his face tender.

"Now, no more tears, _Cherie_. Go and get dressed and then we will go into town, just the three of us. I have lots of things to take care of, so I will have to leave you two on your own for a while. Do you have anyone you want to call to meet up with? Perhaps the young man you have been calling recently?"

Michelle blushed, biting her lip. She almost smiled, then caught herself, blinking rapidly again. Francis hurriedly drew her into an embrace, shushing her.

"No, no tears. If you are happy with him, then I am happy for you. Go, meet with him. If he can take your mind off all this, then I will be forever grateful to him. If that is alright with you, Matthew?"

Matthew shook his head. "I don't mind. Shall I call him now?"

Francis nodded. "I think that would be best. Michelle, can you be ready in half an hour?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. I-I'm sorry for getting so worked up. I didn't mean to."

Francis kissed her forehead tenderly. "Never apologise for showing your emotions. We are all human, after all. It is natural to show our grief."

He stood slowly, turning his head to face Matthew. Motioning for the teen to come over to him, he drew his arms around them both.

"The coming days will be very hard, on all of us. Please, don't hide your tears. I am always here if you need me, either of you. We will get through this together, as a family. I love you both very much, remember that."

They hugged him back tightly, trying not to cry. Francis released them gently, wiping both their faces. They returned his smile tentatively.

"That's better. Now, go and get ready, both of you. I have to collect what I need from the study, and then we will be off. Please be down here again in half an hour."

The two nodded, leaving for their respective rooms.

Already dressed, Matthew suddenly realised that he ought to ring home. He did so, waiting tentatively for someone to pick up. Predictably, it was Alfred who answered.

"Yo, dude! How's it hanging?"

Matthew pursed his lips, suddenly angered at his brother's insensitive nature.

"Can you please pass me to mom, Alfred?"

"What, don't wanna talk to your bro? Cool, I get it. Hang on."

Sounding peeved, Alfred did as he requested. Matthew heard conversation in the background, then Amelia's voice.

" _Sweetie? How are you_?"

Matthew gulped, blinking again. "N-not great" he managed to stutter. Suddenly, the reality sunk in for him, and he started sobbing.

"She's gone" he sobbed. "W-we were talking for ages and she showed me pictures of me as a baby with my mother and Francis and we laughed and she told me so many things about him as a baby. She was so nice and everything was just so natural, like I'd always known her and she didn't even seem that bad so it was like it wasn't real. B-but papa woke me up this morning and I saw his face and I just _knew_. He took me to see h-her and-" he couldn't go on and collapsed into sobs.

Amelia shushed him quietly, murmuring senseless words of comfort.

" _I'm sorry, darling. Shush, it's ok, it's ok. Let it out. Oh, god, I want to hug you right now. Tell me everything. Don't hold back, baby. It's fine. Let it all out_."

Matthew tried to control himself enough to speak. After several gasping breaths, he managed to compose himself enough to continue.

"I-it was, _good_. I mean, she was asleep. So there wasn't any pain or anything. I don't think I could bear it if she had been in pain. But mom, I _saw_ her. I've never seen someone dead before. It's really true, she did just look like she was asleep. That-that's good, right? It's good that she… _fell asleep_ like that, isn't it?"

" _Yes, yes it is darling. The very best way you can go. She's at peace now, don't you worry."_

Matthew breathed deeply, trying to control his tears.

" _Don't think too deeply about it, honey. Try and relax for now. Nothing's going to happened for a few days at least, so just take your time about things. I'm sure Francis has said this already, but I'm here for you whenever you want me. If you need me for anything, I'll be there/ Doesn't matter if it's three in the morning, just pick up the phone. I'm so proud of you, baby. You're my hero, you know that, right?"_

Matthew laughed. "But Al always says he's the hero."

" _He will be, one day. But right now, you're going through something that he can't understand. We both know he can be a little blunt at times, so try not to get mad at him for it, will you? You'll get through this, sweetie. You're so much stronger than you realise. And then, if something ever happens, you can be the best big brother in the world and help each other. I love you so much, baby."_

"Love you too, mom."

" _Love you more. Are you going to be alright, sweetie? I can stay on the phone as long as you need if you want to talk more."_

"No, it's ok. Francis is taking me and Michelle into town so he can go to the solicitors and stuff. So we're going to meet up with Carlos. Actually, I need to ring him about that. We're leaving soon. I'm sorry for ringing so briefly."

" _No problem, honey. You go and see your friend and take your mind off things. I'll speak to you later, when everyone's home, alright? I love you so much, darling. Mwah."_

"Love you too. Oh, wait, mom."

" _Yes?"_

"Eh, can you please tell Al and dad about everything? I don't really want to…"

His mother understood immediately. " _Of course, darling. Now, you go and have fun. I'll talk to you later."_

"Thanks, mom. You're the best."

" _Anything for my boy. Love you."_

After another round of goodbyes, Matthew hung up. Too tired to repeat everything again, e texted Carlos and arranged to meet in the same place as before.

Checking his phone, he saw that it was almost time to leave. Grabbing his backpack, he slung it over his shoulder and went downstairs to the car. Francis and Michelle were there already, his cousin dressed in her usual chic style. Any hint of her tears were hidden under a thin layer of expertly applied makeup, and she even managed to smile at him.

"I'm sorry for being late. I just had to ring home quickly" he apologised.

Francis smiled sadly at him, understanding. "Of course. Did you call your friend as well?" he asked.

Matthew nodded. "He'll meet us in the same place as before, at the column."

"That's good. Well, let's go then."

* * *

A/N (2) I have a couple of confessions to make here. Firstly, the Italian is from google translate, so I apologise if it is wrong. It means 'condolences', but if that isn't the traditional phrase then please let me know and I will change it. Where I live (Scotland) the typical phrase is 'I'm sorry for your loss', but I'm not sure if that is what Lovino would say.

Secondly, while I have lost family members, I have never actually been to a funeral myself. Nor am I religious, and so in order to ensure I do not offend anyone or get the details wrong I will not describe the service itself. Lovino's description is merely from what I know and have read about how a service works, and how I imagine his reaction to it would have been, as he is remembering it from a child's point of view. If that, or anything else in this chapter is wrong or upsetting in any way, please let me know and I will make the necessary changes. This is largely not beta'd, and so I would very much appreciate any constructive criticism.

As always, thank you for reading and please consider leaving a review if you enjoyed it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The drive into town was mostly silent. Each was confined to their own thoughts, with Francis staring dutifully ahead at the road and Matthew and Michelle in twin poses at the back, each looking out of their respective sides with an arm on the ledge of the window.

Eventually, Francis turned into the car park and cut the engine. The sudden lack of noise startled the two teens into looking up. Francis quirked a small smile at them, waiting until they were out before hugging both of them in turn.

"Don't cry, _mon Cherie_ " he said gently to Michelle. "Your friend is likely already waiting for you. Go and have fun, if you can, and I will meet you for lunch in a few hours. If there is anything you want, just buy it. You too, Matthieu."

He handed him a small plastic card. Matthew took it, a little surprised. While Amelia was relatively lenient when it came to pocket money, she had always given it as a reward for chores, partly on Arthur's insistence that he and Alfred both learn the value of money. He slipped the credit card into his pocket, looking at his father, unsure

Francis simply nodded at him. "You deserve it, both of you." He checked his watch briefly. "Now, I really must be going. My phone will be on, but I might not be able to answer it. Ring if something is urgent, otherwise I will see you back here in a few hours, alright?"

They both nodded. "Alright. Have a good time." He waved once, then strode off.

Matthew looked over at Michelle. The girl smiled sadly at him, wiping her eyes carefully. "I'm alright" she insisted. "He's right, Carlos is probably waiting for us. Shall we go?"

Matthew nodded.

As predicted, Carlos was standing at the pillar like before. He smiled when he caught sight of them, raising his arm in a greeting.

"Hey, good to see you again." He knew enough of grief himself to know not to ask the pointless question, and Matthew was very grateful for it.

They spent the morning wandering aimlessly from shop to shop. Without needing to be told, Carlos kept up an easy conversation with them both, eventually rewarded with a genuine smile from Michelle. Matthew was amazed at how he managed it, since he was still too caught up in his own thoughts, and had no idea how to comfort his cousin. This was, after all, his first experience with grief.

He settled for trailing after the other two, enjoying the still-new sights of Paris. Having them both as his guides was incredibly helpful, not least for the language barrier. Not for the first time, he rued his lack of language skills, knowing only the basic conversational phrases taught at school.

It was a lovely language to listen to, he thought, but with each shop they went into he was forced to relay his words through either Michelle or Carlos, unable to have even a basic conversation with anyone. It served to drive home how much he did not know about his true family.

Stuck in his thoughts, he suddenly felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He took it out to see a text from Lovino. Curious, he opened it and read, smiling as he saw the words.

( **L** ): **Hey, talk to me, jerk. I'm dying of boredom.**

( **M** ): **Hello to you to, Lovino. Is class really that boring?**

( **L** ): **Shut up, jerk. This is history. Your brother is yelling about something.**

Matthew winced. While he had nothing particularly against how proud Alfred was of his heritage, it did get incredibly embarrassing when he started yelling about it. Unfortunately, history did tend to increase these outbursts.

( **M** ): **Oh dear. Tell him to shut up from me. And apologise to Mr Laurinaitis as well.**

( **L** ) **Gladly, and no. The old man should give your brother a damn good lecture for once.**

 **: And mine. The little shit won't stop bugging me. What is it about little brothers, huh? I'd slap him, but then he just cries. Stupid fratellino.**

Matthew couldn't help a faint smile. Feliciano was not the most attentive student, and unfortunately for him, history was not one of his better subjects.

However, he reflected, it seemed that Lovino was far more focussed on school now. There had been a worry that he would soon slip into his old ways, but rather than losing focus, he seemed to have a renewed determination to succeed.

Matthew privately thought that actually being in class with both of their brothers had simply made Lovino realise that he could easily do far better than them in most academic areas, and likely with little effort. For all his show of inattention, Lovino was actually incredibly intelligent, and it seemed as though he was now beginning to realise that for himself.

( **M** ): **I hate to ask this, but is Al taking notes?**

( **L** ): **What do you think? I can't see his page from here, jerk. He's waving his pencil in the air and staring out of the window. You tell me, genius.**

Matthew sighed. He had _told_ Alfred numerous times that he really needed him to take notes for him, or he would be significantly behind when he returned.

( **M** ): **I thought so. If you don't mind, could you please ask Mr Laurinaitis to email me the notes from class? I did tell Al to take notes for me, but I suppose I shouldn't have expected him to do it.**

( **L** ): **Jerk. I'll send you mine. At least then I won't be totally wasting my time here.**

( **M** ): **Really? That would be wonderful. Thank you.**

( **L** ): **Don't get any ideas. I'm only doing this because I have nothing else to do. When will you be back?**

Matthew hesitated before replying. Realistically, he had no reason to stay much longer after the funeral and reading of the will. And if he was honest with himself, he was beginning to miss home. While he was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn't particularly miss Alfred as much as he thought, rather enjoying the peace and quiet for once, he was eager to get back into the routine that school and practice would bring.

( **M** ): **Don't put yourself down, Lovi. You'll be a top student in no time!**

 **But I really don't know when I'll be back. We're in Paris now, while Francis goes to the solicitors. So we'll know more after that. I think my cousin is calling for me now, so I'll ring you later when I know more. Say hi to everyone for me, please?**

( **L** ): **yeah, yeah. Tell your cousin I would be happy to show her around if she comes back with you, ok?**

( **M** ) **I hate to say this, Lovi, but I think she's taken. Or will be, soon.**

( **L** ): **Yeah? Well, she hasn't met me yet. Get lost then, before I get the crap yelled out of me for this. The old man is trying to deal with your brother and I wanna keep it that way.**

 **: but I'll tell them. Now go.**

Matthew complied, putting his phone back in his pocket to see Michelle and Carlos walking towards him.

"Hey, Matthew. Look what we got!" Michelle held out a bag to him. He took one look and grinned, seeing the same pastries they had had before.

"Francis will probably scold us for having this before lunch" she said, smiling faintly.

As before, they shared the bag out between them, enjoying the relative peace of the city. Afterwards, they decided to look around a few more of the shops. Michelle seemed to come out of her sadness at the sight of clothes, and spent the remaining time handing things to Matthew with the line that he simply _must_ try it on.

In the end, he came away with what seemed like a ridiculous amount of clothes, but Michelle seemed happy with it, so he decided it was worth it. He felt a twinge of guilt when he handed the credit card over to the cashier, but reasoned that he could always return anything Francis decided was too extravagant.

Knowing him, though, he would only likely take Matthew out again.

Thankfully, Michelle also bought several things for herself, for which Matthew was quite happy to hand the card over to her.

After another hour or so, Carlos had to leave, stating that he had a deadline for his folio and needed to work on it some more. He promised to talk to them both soon. Matthew suspected that Michelle would ask him to come with the funeral with her, for support, and fervently hoped Francis would agree to it.

After that, it was time to return to the car. Francis was already waiting for them when they arrived, although he stressed that he had only just got there himself. Seeing the bags they carried, he smiled.

"Ah, so you did treat yourselves. You will have to show me everything later."

Michelle smiled a little. "I picked it all out for him. Well, he chose some things, but his taste in clothes is terrible! You cannot wear jeans and those awful hoodies all the time, right?"

Francis laughed. "True, _mon Cherie_. Well, it is not Mattieu's fault he has been ruined by those terrible British fashions. Ah, but now you are in the true city of fashion, you will learn in no time." He winked at Matthew, who frowned playfully.

"But I like hoodies" he protested, joining in. "They're very comfy. And practical."

Francis raised his eyebrows in mock horror. "Ah, you are incorrigible. Matthieu, I will need to educate you. No son of mine is going to dress so terribly. Not when you have such fine teachers here, no?"

So he _was_ going to take him shopping again after all. Oh well. He suspected as much.

"Ok, papa" he said quietly, smiling. Francis returned it, then clapped his hands suddenly.

"Well, we must get going again quickly, or we will never find a table. Leave your bags here and we will go for lunch."

Francis led them through the streets until they reached a small café. Michelle's eyes lit up slightly when they entered, so Matthew assumed it was familiar to her, and Francis' gentle smile at her confirmed it.

"They have the best soup here" she said conspirationally. Francis laughed.

"Let him decide for himself, _cherie_."

They were led to a table at the back, with a view out of the window. As Matthew couldn't read the menu, he was quite happy to let them both order for him. Francis did so, speaking rapidly to the waiter, then smiled at Matthew.

"Now for a taste of true cuisine, _no_? I warn you, you will never want to go back to that horrible English stuff again, I tell you."

The food arrived, and Matthew was sure his father was not joking. The soup smelt heavenly, and the first taste confirmed that Francis was a true gastronomic.

His face must have shown his delight, since both Francis and Michelle let out a peal of laughter.

"See, Matthew! We told you!" Michelle giggled for the first time that day, making him look up at her, blushing slightly.

"W-well, it's…do you really eat things like this every day?" he asked, amazed. Of course everything he had had at the house was all delicious, but this was just extraordinary!

"Of course not, silly. I mean, yes, but now you see. The finest food to be found in Paris!" she exclaimed. "Well, maybe not, but it's pretty delicious all the same."

Matthew could only agree wholeheartedly. They ate leisurely, chatting quietly. By unspoken consensus Francis did not say how his visit had gone, and in truth Matthew had no desire to know. He would surely find out later, probably over dinner.

Too soon, it seemed, they finished eating. Francis paid, Michelle having returned his card, and they set off back to the car.

As promised, Matthew showed his father the clothes Michelle had chosen for him. As expected, he was delighted with her choices.

"See? You look wonderful, Matthieu."

Matthew stood in front of the mirror, unsure. Francis stood behind him and placed his hands on his son's shoulders.

"You have a brilliant figure, Matthieu. You simply need the confidence to flaunt it."

Matthew doubted that would ever happen. Objectively, he knew he had a good build. After all, both he and Alfred had honed their bodies with years of sports. They both had the same tall, slender physique, although Alfred had far more muscle than he did, supplementing his practice with working out and training, which Matthew joined in with occasionally. However, while Alfred _did_ like to wear fitting tshirts and jeans, and revelled in the attention it got him, Matthew had always blended into the background, allowing Alfred to take the limelight.

He had to admit, though, his father and cousin had _good_ taste in clothes. Michelle had an eye for fabric and pattern, and had chosen carefully. She had used her own style of a mixture of smart and casual to pick out items that not only flattered his figure, but could also be mixed and matched in potentially endless combinations. She had even allowed him to choose a few pairs of jeans, which were admittedly far more fitted and tailored than anything he would normally have chosen for himself.

All in all, he looked utterly different. He felt a strange smile rise to his face as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Do you like it?"

Francis sounded almost tentative. Matthew looked up at him, feeling his hands tighten slightly on his shoulders.

"Its…different" he replied. "I've never really worn anything like this before." He looked up and down again, turning to the side to see the fit.

"I- I do like it though" he admitted.

Francis beamed at him. "I hoped you would. You have no reason to be shy, Matthieu. After all, good looks run in the family, after all!" He flicked a hand through his hair playfully, making Matthew smile.

They spend the afternoon together, Francis showing him ways of adding accessories to outfits, showing which colours most suited him and how to dress an outfit up or down. Matthew honestly didn't see himself carrying any of it over when he returned to England, but it was always useful to know.

He imagined the reaction he would get at school. To be fair, most of the people in his group of friends were pretty fashionable themselves. Lovino and Feliciano had a typically Italian sense of style, and were generally rather fastidious when it came to clothing. Yong Soo and Leon were the self-appointed fashionistas of their group, helped in no small part by Mei, who loved to make and design her own clothes. Kiku was far more reserved, but was very particular about fit, not least due to his petite, almost feminine frame.

Alfred, of course, was typically modern, dressing mainly in jeans and tshirts, with hoodies flung over the top and his beloved football jacket that Amelia had bought for him on a trip abroad.

It would certainly be interesting, he thought. To come back reinvented, a new person. His lip twisted in a intrigued smile. He would probably still return to his usual habits, but it was certainly something to think about.


	19. Chapter 19

Matthew spend the rest of the day with Michelle, the two of them wandering around the garden in a sense of déjà vu.

The next few days were spent suspended in a haze of sick anticipation. Francis holed himself up in his study, busy writing letters of condolence and invitations to the funeral, which had been decided for the coming Tuesday.

The family began to arrive over the next week. For the most part, Matthew and Michelle stayed together, holed up either in their rooms or retreating to the games room, where they knew their age would allow them to remain largely undisturbed.

For his part, Francis left them to it, knowing that they would find the greatest solace in each other's company. Matthew found himself lost once again, unable to talk to much of the new guests due to the language barrier, and Michelle had retreated into herself, unwilling to act as his translator.

They were sitting quietly in the room, both lost in their own thoughts, when a knock suddenly sounded at the door. Matthew looked up, puzzled. Not many of the family came down here, the older cousins choosing to spend much of their time in the city. He looked over to Michelle, wondering who it could be.

Seeing that she was unlikely to answer, Matthew got up and opened the door, curiously.

"Uh, yes?" he asked, immediately berating himself for not using the little French he had managed to pick up.

"I mean, eh, how do I say it, um, _je suis désolé, je ne parle pas français._ _Parle-tu anglais_?"

He desperately hoped that was right.

The intruder laughed, a light, bright sound. Matthew flushed a little. The woman standing in front of him was undoubtedly one of Francis' cousins. Her hair was the same light blond, perhaps a shade or two darker, and tied back over her shoulder in a long plait. She had a large red bow on one side of her hair, and two clips of the same colour held her fringe back from her face, which was framed with neat rimless glasses.

"Don't worry, I speak English" she said, laughing a little. Her voice held only a slight accent. She must have seen the relief on Matthew's face, as she went on to explain,

"I have to, for my job. I work in a casino, in Monaco. Lots of very rich, international clients. English is the lingua franca."

Matthew blinked in surprise. "eh, ok? I'm sorry, um.."

"Emilie" she supplied helpfully. "I'm guessing you're Matthew?"

He nodded. "It's nice to meet you" he said politely.

She waved a hand at him, dismissively. "You too. Now, why are you two holed up in here? Must be kind of boring, surely?" she stepped past him, making her way into the room and dropping onto one of the large beanbags scattered around the room.

Matthew could only close the door and retreat back to the sofa, totally lost.

Emilie immediately picked up one of the many controllers lying around the room and stretched across to turn on the TV. She turned around to him and held another out.

"Want to play?" she asked.

Matthew took the controller from her wordlessly. _What is she doing?_ He wondered.

The answer was pretty obvious, of course. Whoever she was, she was obviously trying to make them both feel better, or at least take their minds off everything.

They began a game together. At first, Matthew played half-heartedly, still a little confused with Emilie's sudden presence. Soon, however, his competitive side kicked in, honed from years of playing against Alfred.

After throwing a particularly stunning attack at Emilie's character, causing them to veer suddenly and fall off the track entirely, he glanced across to Michelle.

The noise had evidently brought her out of her gloom, as she sat with a small smile on her face watching them play.

"Would you like to play too?" Matthew asked softly.

Michelle bit her lip, looking away for a moment. Matthew simply waited. After a moment or two, she turned back to him, her smile widening.

"Alright" she said.

Matthew grinned. Leaning forwards to grab another controller, he handed it to her with a mock-serious expression.

"You're on."

The battle began in earnest. Soon, the three of them were locked in fierce concentration, their bodies tilted forward, moving and swaying with the motion of the characters. They raced around lap after lap.

Michelle turned out to be amazingly good at it, guiding her character effortlessly through land, sea and air, transitioning smoothly as required. Matthew was a little jerkier, having never quite got the hang of the exact timing needed for the game. Between them both, Emilie was just as controlled, absently huffing as a stray strand of hair fell across her face.

She raised a hand to brush it out of the way, letting go of the controller for a mere second. Matthew seized the opportunity as her character paused for a moment and raced forward, gaining the distance between him and Michelle, who was way out in front.

The pause cost her, as the final lap narrowed until each one was sitting on the edge of their seats, gazes locked furiously on the screen.

They turned the last corner and the finishing line came into view. Suddenly, Michelle's character shot forward, the girl having sneakily saved a boost for this exact moment. She crossed the line easily, sitting back with a smug look and waiting as the other two came in second and third, Emilie having not quite managed to catch up from the lag.

She let out a groan of dismay.

"Michelle, that was utterly foul. You sneaky little thing, how long had you been saving that?" she asked suspiciously.

Michelle grinned at her. "Wouldn't you like to know". Her eyes shone with the first genuine happiness Matthew had seen all week.

Emilie sighed and fell back onto the beanbag.

"Ah, Well. What can you do. Good game, both of you." She looked up at them both, shaking her head sadly.

"Honestly, you young things, learning how to play our games and beating us at them. I remember the first consoles that came out. You don't know you're born nowadays, all this fancy tech you have."

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "Emilie, you work in a _casino_ ," she countered.

The blond merely looked at her. "Your point?"

"They're full of technology!" she argued. "UV light detectors, x-rays, all that fancy James Bond stuff. You probably use way more stuff than we do."

Emilie giggled. "True!"

"It must be very exciting." Matthew smiled, his gaze slightly entranced.

"Nah. I mean it can be, sure. Tips are great, for one thing. Guys get pretty free when they start winning. But it's not something I would recommend, really." Her expression sobered.

"It looks very glamourous from the outside. Shiny cars, all that wealth, the promise of winning. But it's not so great on the inside. The dress code is pretty strict for workers, and I have to wear heels all day, which sucks on a long shift. I get to meet people from all over the world and it really is nice to see the joy on their faces when they realise they've won. But then the flip side is those who are truly addicted, who keep playing long after they know they haven't got anything to bet with. We do the best we can to keep people in check, but it doesn't always work. They'll just go somewhere else instead."

The mood in the room sobered. They sat in silence, until Emilie laughed suddenly, breaking the spell.

"Oh, goodness, that was dark. I'm sorry." She grinned apologetically. "As with anything, there's pros and cons. Bottom line, kids, listen to the slogan. By all means have a flutter every once in a while, but don't go crazy. And if you ever wanna come to Monaco with me, I'll give you a tour. We're on the circuit too, so if you're into cars we get some pretty famous faces coming through the doors!"

On that note, a knock sounded at the door, and Francis popped his head around.

"Oh, look, a not-so-famous face" Emilie joked, making the two laugh.

Francis looked at his cousin, an eyebrow raised in faint amusement. "Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. Just telling the kids about the dangers of gambling. Live fast, die young, all that jazz."

Francis nodded slowly, clearly none the wiser. "Well, never mind that. Lunch is ready, if you would like to come to the dining room. He held the door wider, waiting while Matthew and Michelle got up from the couch and walked out, giving them each a brief smile and a hug.

Emilie made no move to get up, instead waiting until the two teens were out of earshot before rising gracefully and walking over to her cousin. Francis stepped back to allow her into the corridor.

"Thank you, Emilie" he said quietly.

"It was nothing" she replied. "Those two are feeling very lonely right now, being in this huge house with everyone. I'm sure it wasn't doing them much good to sit holed up in that room. And it turns out they're pretty good at games!"

Francis quirked a smile. "Well, I'm grateful. Matthew I was not so worried about, but I have not seen Michelle smile like that all week. So, thank you."

She shook her head. "It's fine. They're cute kids, it was fun." She grinned at him, linking her arm through his. "Now, cuz, you said something about lunch? I don't know about you, but I'm _starving_."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The rest of the weekend passed in a whirl of condolences, planning and greetings. For the most part, Matthew and Michelle stayed in the games room or wandering around the garden, trying to stay out of the way of the rest of the family. Matthew hadn't had time to learn more than a few basic phrases, and he knew that Michelle really wasn't feeling up to being a translator for him. Added to that, neither of them really wanted to spend much time with the adults, knowing that they would only be subjected to the same phrases repeated over and over.

All too soon, it seemed, it was Tuesday, and the funeral itself. Francis had explained the service to Matthew the day before, and reiterated that he and Michelle needn't stay for the full ceremony if they didn't want to. Matthew wouldn't understand little of it, and it would be rather inappropriate for someone to translate for him, speaking over the priest. Besides, it was hardly rare for family members to excuse themselves from a service; Michelle had said many times that she wasn't sure she would be able to cope with the full ceremony.

It was therefore agreed that the two of them would stay long enough to greet the family and priest, and at least the first prayer, and after that, there would be no problem with them leaving.

Matthew stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie with shaking hands. He looked up when he heard a sound, wordlessly dropping his arms and closing his eyes as he heard Francis come over to stand in front of him.

"Head up, Matthieu." He obeyed, allowing his father to correct the tie for him, his hands lingering on his son's shoulders. Matthew let his head fall forward until he rested against Francis' chest.

"It's really…real", he whispered. He blinked away a small tear.

Francis gave a soft sigh. "Yes. This is always the case, I'm afraid. We never quite realise it until it is in front of us, and then we cannot ignore it any longer."

He placed a finger on Matthew's chin, tilting his head up to look into his eyes.

"But try not to think of it that way. This may be the day to say goodbye, but it is also a time to remember her. Think of the memories you got to make with her instead."

Matthew nodded. "I'll try."

Francis smiled sadly at him. "Good. Now, if you are ready, the car is waiting downstairs. You are in the first, with Michelle and Emilie, and myself of course. I thought you would prefer that."

Matthew returned the smile, relieved that he would not be stuck in a car with people he hardly knew.

The church itself was beautiful. Although it wasn't far from the house, with the spire faintly visible from the roof and a few of the bedrooms, he hadn't actually been before. Francis had told him that his grandmother had been a regular there for most of her life until her illness had restricted her.

It was old, obviously, the centuries showing through the heavy stonework and exquisite carvings. Inside, the pews and beams were made from a rich, dark wood that smelled faintly of the incense they had soaked up through the years. Each had a tall, carved back and little red cushions to mark the seats.

His gaze was drawn upwards, to the richly painted ceiling, the colours bright and vibrant despite their age. The sun shone brilliantly through the stained glass, illuminating the floor in beams of colour.

It was a beautiful building, he thought, and a truly wonderful place to honour her memory.

Francis showed him and Michelle to the front, where the seats for the closest family members were reserved. As promised, theirs were to the end of the aisle, where they would be able to slip away unobtrusively when they wished.

Even without being able to understand the words, Matthew found the ceremony calming. The cadence of the priest's voice as he prayed was soft and lilting, and the sound of everyone's voices echoing off the high rafters during the hymn sent a shiver down his spine. Although he was largely unreligious himself, sitting there, he could understand why his grandmother had loved coming here. It was peaceful, the sense of centuries of tradition giving the church a timeless, ageless feel to it. He was almost a little sad when he felt Michelle's gentle press on his arm, wordlessly signalling that it was alright for them to slip out now.

They made their way around to the graveyard, with it's neat rows of headstones, some adorned with sculpted angels and flowers, others plain and stately. It was wonderfully quiet, the only sounds that of the birds chirping in the trees surrounding the grounds and the gentle sway of the trees in the light breeze.

"I'm glad she'll be here," Michelle said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Matthew looked over at her. "I know what you mean," he replied, smiling. "It's so peaceful."

Michelle gave a forlorn smile. "Graveyards always are, silly."

His smile twisted. "You know what I mean." His gaze roamed around. "You know, they're supposed to be very good for wildlife. Because it's so quiet, and relatively undisturbed." He remembered a program he had seen on TV a few years ago about it. Seeing Michelle's curious look, he continued,

"Deer, foxes, birds, those kinds of animals. I suppose it depends on the grounds, but I guess a place like this would probably be perfect for them."

Michelle's eyes softened at that. "Do you think…?" she trailed off.

"That we could find any? I don't know. I suppose so, if we knew what we were looking for. I'm really no expert on identification and stuff like that, though. It wouldn't hurt to look, I suppose. Just not for long. I don't know how long this will go on for."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't know. I was too young to remember Mama and Papa's. Please, we could check, couldn't we?"

Matthew understood the plea in her words, and nodded his head, agreeing. They made their way over to the edge of the grounds, where the treeline blended in with the grass. They were careful not to venture into the woods themselves, mindful of their clothing and the likely time limit.

After half an hour, they ceded defeat, neither of them knowing what exactly they were supposed to be looking for. They had, however, found a bunch of wildflowers that Michelle had deftly tied into a small bouquet to place on the coffin.

"She loved these," she said quietly, looking down at the flowers in her hand. "I used to spend hours outside when I was little, collecting as many as I could find. I tied them up with a piece of long grass, which would always come undone, but I would run back as fast as I could to show them to her. No matter how badly I'd tied them, or how scruffy they were, she would always smile and thank me. Then she would put them in a vase and place it in her room, and if I'd got enough, another one on the dinner table too. Grandfather would always laugh and tell me that one day the whole house would be full of flowers."

They both sobered at that. Matthew had not had much opportunity to speak with his grandfather, who had less grasp of English than his wife. As well as that, Michelle had confided to him that it seemed likely he was in the first stages of dementia, and might not know Matthew too well. The few times he had spoken to him had been with Michelle or Francis translating for him, but this was tiring on them both, and not always successful. Still, they managed to communicate with smiles and gestures, but on the whole, he had not managed to become very close with the old man. Francis had told him not to worry, that he had plenty of pictures of Matthew to show to him and that he just needed a little time to understand.

Matthew wondered what it would be like, to say goodbye to the person you had promised to spend your life with, likely in the same church that they had been married in. As Michelle had said, the church and it's grounds were truly lovely, and would be a wonderful resting place. With the short distance from the house, it wouldn't be far to come and pay their respects, whenever they wanted to.

Realising that they had spent almost an hour outside, they made their way back to the front. Michelle suddenly stopped, dropping her arm from Matthews and starting forward tentatively. Matthew followed her gaze, and wasn't particularly surprised to see Carlos standing by the entrance to the church.

The older teen nodded to them both. "Your dad called me the other day," he explained quietly. "He told me about your grandma, said I was welcome to pay my respects if I wanted. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Michelle looked like she was about to cry again, but squared her shoulders determinedly. It was only a second or two before she dropped again, however, and ran forward to him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.

Carlos looked startled for a moment, then lifted his arm to rub her back tenderly. Matthew smiled softly, happy that the two had obviously grown a lot closer over the past month.

Carlos looked at him over Michelle's head, his expression almost wary despite his size. Matthew held back the urge to laugh, instead nodding wordlessly at the other. Carlos looked relieved, and tightened his hold around Michelle, murmuring words of comfort that Matthew only vaguely understood.

"I'll let papa know you're here," he said. Carlos shot him a smile, still cradling Michelle tenderly. Matthew couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he could leave the two together for a moment.

He went back inside, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the relative shade after the bright morning sun.

Once he could see again, he walked softly down the aisle and slid into the seat beside Francis.

"Michelle is outside with Carlos," he murmured. Francis raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "Good. You didn't have to come back in, you know."

"I know." Matthew didn't offer an explanation, merely shifting until he could lay his head on Francis' shoulder. He was content to listen to the rest of the service, allowing the words to wash over him.

When it came to an end, Francis led everyone outside to where the burial would take place. As Francis had explained to Matthew before, his grandmother had arranged all of this many years ago, choosing the plot and headstone herself.

The burial itself was brief, with Michelle taking the bouquet she had made before and placing it reverently on the fresh soil. Francis handed Matthew another, allowing him to step forward and place it next to Michelle's before setting down his own.

Once the ceremony was concluded, the guests began to make their way into the church hall, where the wake was to be held. As most of the guests were friends of their grandmother, Francis had agreed to drive them back to the house before returning, as they were by this point both tired and rather emotionally drained.

After ushering everyone inside, Francis made his way over to them.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked.

Matthew and Michelle both nodded, eager to be home and out of their stiff clothes.

"Alright. We shall have to be quick," he said. "I rather think I am supposed to give a speech, or something. I may not return for a few hours, so please help yourselves to anything in the house. Carlos, would you like to go with them?"

The Cuban seemed surprised at the offer, and after glancing at Michelle for confirmation, nodded politely.

"I would love to, but I should really be getting back. Thank you for your kindness."

Francis looked faintly amused at the younger man's words, but smiled kindly.

"But of course, it is nothing. Cherie, if you and Matthieu would show him to the car, I will be there in only a moment."

Michelle nodded. Once Francis' back was turned, she took his arm, squeezing it slightly. Her face was dusted with a slight blush, and she smiled up at him.

"He likes you."

Carlos rubbed the back of his head nervously. "You think so?"

Michelle nodded. "Yep. You didn't have to be so formal, you know." Her voice almost had it's usual laughter in it.

"Oh. Guess I just tend to fall back on it. My family was kinda old-fashioned like that. Respect to your elders, you get me."

Matthew smiled. "My dad- eh, step-dad, is like that too. He's English, and hard about 'proper'. My brother gets in awful trouble about it."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Your brother sounds like a handful. You said he was more American than Canadian, yeah?"

"M-hmm. And about as typical of it as you could get." Matthew's smile twisted at the thought of what Alfred would say at that. _It's not like he'd deny it though_ he thought. He could almost hear the reply he would get. _Heck yeah, bro! 'Merican and proud!_

He couldn't help a small chuckle.

Francis chose that moment to return.

"Something funny?" he asked, smiling.

Matthew shook his head. "Just discussing home," he replied. Francis looked at him a little quizzically, but didn't press it, ushering them to the car.

Carlos said goodbye to them both, excusing himself politely. Francis offered to drive him back into town, but he declined, motioning to the road, where he had parked his motorbike.

"Remember, you are welcome any time," Francis said. "If you would like to come over sometime, I am sure Matthieu and Chelle would be more than happy to give you a tour. At the least you must come to dinner soon."

Carlos nodded, his face serious. "Thank you, sir. I would like that."

Francis smiled slightly, almost indulgent, and Matthew held back a grin, knowing that was his way of saying he approved of his relationship with Michelle.

With that, Carlos shook hand with Francis, nodding to both Matthew and Michelle, then left, leaving them to get in the car.

The drive back was largely silent, Matthew and Michelle both simply glad to be away from it all.

Francis drew up to the driveway, leaving the engine running as he went up and unlocked the door, giving the keys to Michelle.

"Remember, anything you want, help yourself. I do not know what time I will be back, so if you would like to order something or cook for yourselves, just go ahead. My phone is on if you need me for anything. Otherwise, I will let you know when I am leaving."

They nodded. "We will."

Francis smiled at them, then turned back to the car. He got in and reversed swiftly, then drove back. They watched his little red car disappear, then turned to go into the house.

Once inside, the two went up to their rooms to change out of their stiff clothes.

Matthew smiled to himself as he made his way up to his room. It was great to see Michelle happy with Carlos, he thought. Still, he couldn't deny the twinge of nerves it gave him, wishing he could have the same. They made it look so _easy_. Less than a month had passed since they first met, and already it was clear that they were, if not quite fully in love yet, certainly well on the road to it. He could only wish that things would be so simple for him.

Still, that was a thought for another time.

He got changed quickly, feeling far more comfortable once back in his old hoodie and jeans.

He wasn't really comfortable with the suit, although he admitted that Carlos and Michelle had made for a very good couple outside, his smart black blazer and pants matched with her simple dress and flat pumps. She had kept the red ribbons in her hair, saying that their grandmother would have liked for there to be some colour among all the black. Luckily Francis had agreed, and if anyone thought it was inappropriate, they had at least not commented on it.

Once changed, Matthew went down to the kitchen to fix something for lunch. After a few minutes, Michelle joined him, looking far happier to be back in her usual blue dress. They sat at the kitchen table together in companionable quiet, occasionally looking up at each other. Although the service hadn't really been very long, it was still tiring, and they were both content to simply enjoy being in the house by themselves.

Francis returned a little over an hour later, looking tired. He ran a hand through his hair, loosening it from the ponytail he had tied it in.

The two waited until he was in, Michelle handing him a cup of coffee, which he took with a grateful smile.

"Well, I am glad that is all over," he said. His voice was a little rough, his accent thicker with fatigue. He slumped down onto the sofa, seemingly uncaring that he was slouching. Matthew and Michelle took seats on the sofa opposite. They sat in silence, Francis leaning back with his eyes closed.

After a while, he opened his eyes and sat forward, placing the mug down on the table in front of him. He held his arms out, motioning for them to come and sit beside him. They did so, and he wrapped an arm around each of them.

He kissed each of their heads in turn, his hand squeezing slightly on their shoulders.

"I am very glad you are both here," he said, his voice a little thick. Neither of them replied, understanding what he meant. They both snuggled into him, allowing themselves to be comforted by him. They stayed like that for a long time, simply enjoying being with each other. It would likely take a long time before they began to return to normal, but they would get through it, together, as a family.

* * *

 **A/N I apologise for not updating for almost a month. I had a bit of writer's block with this. From here on, I intend things to move a little faster. There will be one more chapter of Matthew in France, and then the action will finally get back to Lovino and everyone at school. Again, I apologise for this taking far longer than I really expected, but although I think of it as a sort of filler, it was necessary for exposition.**

 **I have the ending more or less planned at this point, but I couldn't say how many chapters it will be in total, given that I had no idea I would have enough of an plot to write twenty chapters already. This is by far the longest piece of writing I have ever done, and the first multi-chaptered piece as well. For anyone reading MGL, I will try and update that more frequently as well. I don't have the plot fully down yet, though, so I can't make any promises. If you would really like me to update something, or if you have a request for anything, please review or give me a PM and I will do my best.**

 **As always, thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism would be very welcome, as I'm still trying to improve my writing and feedback would be extremely useful. If not, favourites and follows always inspire an author to keep going.:)**


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